Heat begins to build in the air around us, not the oppressive heat of summer but something cleaner. Magical heat that smells like temple incense and old stone. I feel hands settle over my chest, palms flat against my ribs, and power hums through the touch like electricity.
"I call upon Solis, god of light and binding," Jelle's voice has taken on a formal cadence, the words carrying weight that makes the air itself seem to thicken. "I ask that you witness this union and bless the bond between these souls."
The heat intensifies, spreading from her hands through my chest like warm honey. It doesn't hurt—for the first time in days, something doesn't hurt. Instead, it feels like coming back to life, like warmth returning to frozen limbs.
Light blazes behind my closed eyelids, brilliant and pure and absolutely overwhelming. I can feel Jelle's magic working, weaving something complex and beautiful between Mihalis and me. Can feel the bond that's been slowly killing us both suddenly blazing with life and purpose.
Power floods my body like a river breaking through a dam. Not just magic, but vitality itself. Life pouring back into me so fast it's almost violent, filling the hollow spaces where pain has lived for so long. My heart starts beating stronger, my lungsinflate fully for the first time in days, my bones stop feeling like they're made of broken glass.
And through it all, I can feel him. Not just his presence, but his emotions, his relief so profound it makes me want to cry. The bond settles between us like a living thing, warm and golden and absolutely unbreakable.
My eyes snap open.
The world comes into focus slowly, colors bleeding back into a reality that's been gray for too long. Temple ceiling above me, carved stone and ancient symbols that seem to pulse with their own inner light. Candles flickering in alcoves, casting dancing shadows on walls that have witnessed countless ceremonies like this one.
And Mihalis, kneeling beside the altar where I'm lying, his molten gold eyes wide with relief and something that looks suspiciously like unshed tears.
He looks terrible. His skin has the same gray undertone mine probably had, and there are dark circles under his eyes that speak of days without sleep. His hair is disheveled, his clothes rumpled, and his massive wings droop with exhaustion.
But he's beautiful. So fucking beautiful it makes my chest ache with something that has nothing to do with magic and everything to do with how much I missed him.
"Heidi." My name falls from his lips like a prayer, rough with emotion. His hands shake as he reaches for me, cupping my face with a gentleness that belies his obvious desperation. "Are you—tell me you're okay."
The question breaks something loose in my chest. All the fear and longing and desperate want I've been trying to suppress for days comes rushing back, amplified by the bond that now connects us completely. I can feel his relief, his love, his absolute terror at how close he came to losing me.
And I can finally admit, to myself and to him, that I never wanted to leave in the first place.
Instead of answering with words, I surge upward, ignoring the way my body protests the sudden movement. My hands fist in the front of his shirt, and I drag his mouth down to mine with all the desperate hunger of someone who's been starving for weeks.
The kiss is everything our first one wasn't. No hesitation, no uncertainty, no fear of what it might mean. Just pure need and relief and the overwhelming joy of being alive, of being whole, of finally accepting what I've wanted all along.
He tastes like worry and sleepless nights and the kind of desperation that comes from watching someone you love slip away. But underneath that, he tastes like home. Like safety and desire and the promise that I'll never have to face anything alone again.
His arms come around me, pulling me against his chest as he kisses me back with a fervor that makes my head spin. The bond hums between us, no longer the weak, painful thing it's been but something bright and strong and absolutely perfect.
I can feel his relief through the connection, feel how much my leaving hurt him. But I can also feel his love, pure and uncomplicated and so much stronger than I ever dared hope.
19
MIHALIS
The kiss breaks apart slowly, reluctantly, and I find myself staring down at Heidi's face with something that feels dangerously close to worship. Her eyes are clear now, no longer clouded with pain, and the color has returned to her skin in a way that makes the bond between us sing with satisfaction.
But even as relief floods through me, a cold knot of fear settles in my stomach.
What I did—binding her when she could barely speak, when she was delirious with pain and hardly capable of true consent—it goes against everything I've ever believed about choice and autonomy. The kind of thing I'd kill another male for doing to a woman under my protection.
"Heidi." Her is a broken plea, weighted with guilt I can't quite shake. "I know you must be angry. What happened here—I took your choice away from you. I couldn’t just watch while I lost you.”
She tilts her head, studying my face with those storm-gray eyes that see too much. A small frown creases her brow, and I brace myself for her anger, for the inevitable moment when she realizes what I've done and starts fighting me again.
"I know what you did," she says softly. "I was aware enough to hear most of it."
The knot in my stomach tightens. "Then you know I didn't give you a real choice. You were dying, barely conscious?—"
"Mihalis." Her hand comes up to cup my jaw, thumb stroking over the stubble I haven't bothered to shave in days. "Stop."
"I couldn't let you die." The words burst out of me before I can stop them, raw with the terror I've been carrying since I found her collapsed in that freezing apartment. "I know that's selfish, I know I should have respected your decision to leave, but I couldn't—fuck, I couldn't just watch you fade away because you were too stubborn to accept help."
