Was that really only this morning?
Feels like years. Like I've lived an entire lifetime in the hours since I left to walk through the city with Lora.
Lorenth carries me straight through the kitchen, past the sitting room, up the stairs to the bedroom we shared last night. He sets me gently on the bed—ourbed—and steps back, storm-blue eyes scanning my face like he's searching for injuries his magic might have missed.
"Are you okay?"
The question is rough. Edged with something that sounds like fear. Like he's terrified I'll shatter if he looks away.
I should answer. Should tell him I'm fine, that the healing worked, that physically I'm better than I've been in months. But the words stick in my throat. Because I'mnotfine. My body might be healed but I'm still shaking. Still feel the phantom weight of the rope around my wrists, the sting of Darian's fist, the jeering crowd pressing closer.
Still feel that awful silence where the bond should be.
I reach for him instead.
My fingers catch in the blood-stained fabric of his shirt, pulling him back before he can retreat further. He freezes, muscles going rigid beneath my touch.
"Don't." My voice comes out hoarse. Wrecked. "Don't go."
"I'm not—" He stops, jaw working around whatever he was about to say. "I'm right here."
But he's too far away. Standing when I need him closer. Need to feel the solid reality of him, the proof that this isn't some fever dream conjured by pain and fear.
"Please." The word breaks on my lips. "I just—I can't believe you came for me."
Something shifts in his expression. Softens and hardens simultaneously, like he's fighting between tenderness and rage. His hands come up to frame my face, thumbs brushing across cheekbones that should still be bruised.
"Of course I came." He leans over me, one knee bracing on the mattress. "Did you think I wouldn't?"
"I don't know." The honesty tastes bitter. "No one ever has before."
Uncle certainly didn't when Darian first started getting rough. The village didn't when he dragged me home from Mira's that first time, fist raised. Even Mira—who I love, who tried to help—couldn't actuallydoanything except offer refuge in an apartment that was never truly safe.
But Lorenth didn't hesitate.
He felt the bond go silent and tore the city apart looking for me. Found me. Destroyed the man who hurt me and promised violence to anyone who'd eventhinkabout following.
Protected me the way no one ever has.
My heart pounds against my ribs—this wild, desperate rhythm that has nothing to do with fear. The bond sits quiet but thisachein my chest, this overwhelming need, is all mine. Not magic. Not cosmic destiny. Just me wanting him with an intensity that steals breath.
I chose him when we bonded. Chose the protection and permanence he offered. But part of me—this small, damaged part that's spent years learning not to hope—didn't quite believe it could last. That someone like Lorenth could actually want someone like me.
He proved me wrong.
My hand lifts, fingers trembling as they trace the sharp line of his jaw. He's still covered in blood. Still has Darian's death written across his skin in rusty brown streaks. Should disgust me. Should make me flinch away from the violence he's capable of.
Instead I feel safe.
"I love you."
The confession falls into the space between us, quiet but absolute. True in a way nothing else has been. Because this isn't the bond talking. Isn't magic forcing emotion I don't feel. Thisismine—this terrifying, exhilarating certainty that I want him. Choose him. Would choose him again even if the bond vanished completely.
Lorenth goes utterly still.
Then his face breaks into this wide, devastating smile. The kind I've never seen on him before—unguarded and bright andreal. It transforms him from the controlled, disciplined warrior into something younger. Lighter.
Beautiful.
