Varian settled himself closer, leaning into me, fingers tracing down my throat, over the tender spots of new skin. “Much better, Lyrae. By tomorrow, they’ll be gone completely.”His fingers danced over my shoulder, down my arm to my wrist. “Any other cuts or bruises? You crashed through the ice; did you hit your head?”
“I don’t think so.” I let him inspect every inch of my skin, that keen concentration growing more intense by the minute. He paused at the scar on my arm, making a little noise before moving to my blistered feet.
“I was so…everything happened so fast,” I said. “One minute I was above the ice, the next, the weight of my pack was dragging me under. I couldn’t…”
Sweat beaded up on my brow. “I kicked my feet, but the heavy pack dragged me down and I hadn’t gotten much air before I went completely under.” I let out a shaking breath that somehow became a muffled sob. “I don’t know how to swim; I never learned. I couldn’t breathe, Varian, and I couldn’t…Icouldn’t…if you hadn’t pulled me out…fuck.”
I didn’t know what was happening.
My chest was caving in, my breaths just…weren’t coming,like there was no air left in the room.
“Lyrae…sweetness, come here.” Varian pressed me against him, tears flooding my eyes, my throat closing off, fingers digging into his shoulders as I held on for dear life.
I didn’t even know who I was right now, falling to pieces, clinging to Varian like he was the only real thing in the world. I’d never even imagined being underwater before today, and now I couldn’t stop reliving that suffocating panic, the way my pack dragged me down, unable to do anything but reach for the disappearing light.
Varian held onto me tightly, kept his strong arms wrapped around me so I felt protected by a wall of muscle. He let me cry some of the ugliest tears I’d ever shed, never telling me everything would be okay, just giving me something I hadn’t had in a hundred years.
A safe place to fall apart.
A firm chest to sob into, strong arms to hang onto, a place where I wasn’t judged.
Finally…I took a shaky breath.
“I thought I was dying,” I admitted, face still buried in his shirt. “And that would be the worst possible way to die. Down there in the dark, fighting for air, so cold I couldn’t feel anything.”
“You’re safe now, Lyrae, I’ve got you, you’re safe,” he kept saying, over and over again. “You’re here in the light, where the cold can’t touch you. You’re with me, and I willneverlet the darkness claim you.”
Maybe those were the words I’d been waiting for, because my body finally sagged, days of exhaustion and doubt and fear coming to a head as I let myself go.
His lips roved through my still-wet hair, arms tightening around me as the edges of the world darkened, my awareness filled with just two things.
Varian’s heart beating beneath my cheek, and the sun-drenched smell of him—achingly familiar and deliciously forbidden—spun a thousand fantasies inside my head as I pressed my lips to the side of his throat, stealing a taste of the friend who maybe hadn’t betrayed me after all.
He kissed the top of my head, tugging me closer, almost on top of him.
“Go to sleep, Lyrae. For once, let me watch over you. Let me be the one who keeps the darkness at bay.”
20
VARIAN KRONOS
Iplunged my nose into Lyrae’s inky hair, drinking in her glorious scent, reveling in the fact she trusted me enough to fall asleep in my arms.
She was lovely like this, still warm from a bath, all her hard edges stripped away, nothing but soft curves and gentle sighs as I threaded my fingers through her still-damp tresses.
This hair should be a crime. It’s too thick, too rich, too luxurious for the commander of the Dreadwatch. It’s the kind of thing a male could get obsessed about, maybe have certain…prurient fantasies over.
But right now, as I sifted the strands between my fingers like black silk, I was grateful she’d never cut this, glad she’d never shaved it into a soldier’s conscription haircut, as I toyed with the ends, curling slightly as they dried.
This wasn’t the first time I’d held her like this, though I doubted she’d remember the last, a lifetime ago after too much shitty wine, but there wasn’t a single moment I forgot when it came to Lyrae Antares.
She was the bravest, most determined female I’d ever known, and I’d loved her from the first moment I’d seen her, a dirty-faced, mop-headed orphan in a Southwell alleyway. Years before we’d ever heard the name Ryland Storme.
But since the day he’d blown into our lives, she’d had eyes for no one but him, and I’d been relegated to best friend status, where I’d remained all this time, believing she was dead. Spinning a thousand different fantasies, all of them ending up like this.
With us together.
Tangled in bed, her face lit only by the dying firelight.
