I did remember.
My arm dropped onto my thigh, and I stayed silent, staring at the wall past him even as my body betrayed me with a twinge of awareness. Lorant was appealing in his rough, volatile way, and now that I wasn’t trying to shove him into a separate mental box from Merrick, I found myself seeing the whole picture. Two parts, one man. Messy. Complicated. Absolutely infuriating. But incredibly appealing.
I wasn’t running from this anymore. It wasn’t betrayal to care about them both, seeing as they were essentially the same person.
“What will happen to you if I break the curse?” I realized the moment I said it that he wouldn't be able to answer. I needed to phrase it as a yes or no question. “What I mean is, if I break the curse, willyoucease to exist?” Asking the question yanked me out of my self-pity with the force of a drawn bowstring snapping to whip back at my face.
He shrugged.
Ah…shit. Now I was experiencing a new sort of pain, one centered in my chest, and it was much worse than the agony caused by my flow.
The world felt too small. Too quiet. And I couldn't make myself speak to break the wretchedness of it swirling around us.
His answer gave me something to think about, but now wasn'tthe time, not when torturous waves were swamping me, and he was lying beside me looking much too solemn, even for Lorant. Part of me wanted to say something reassuring to get his feral, piercing green eyes off me. The other part knew that wouldn’t work. Whatever I said needed to be pointed, careful. The curse was bound to them as if held them in an elderwood tree’s relentless grip. Every attempt to explain would end with them gasping, hacking for air.
“How much pain are you in?” he asked.
“It’s bearable,” I lied, trying to breathe through the sharp surges smacking through me. Another jab gouged at my belly, drawing a low hiss from between my clenched teeth. My vision blurred as I was consumed by the fresh flare of pain.
“I’m sorry. For everything I can’t say or do. For being…me when sometimes, alright, I’ll admit it, I’m not always nice.”
“No,” I breathed.
“I would do anything to make it up to you. This could be my first groveling. Will you let me help you? Please?”
“Go ahead,” I whispered. “Do your worst.”
His words skated across my skin. “For this, Wildfire, I’ll do my best.”
He shifted upright, folding his long legs beneath him as he turned to face me fully. His calloused hands lifted, palms up, and I watched through narrowed eyes as he tugged elements from the air. The stillness around him grew, charged by the faint slither of magic gliding between his fingers. Flickers of silver and cool indigo wove together, condensing into a cup that gleamed in his shadowed hand. Steam rose from the liquid inside, the scent herbal yet also spicy, soothing in a strange, lingering way.
“You'll need to sit up,” he said.
I eyed the drink like it might sprout fangs and bite me. “What is it?”
His gaze didn’t waver, his scar catching the light as his jaw tightened. “Trust me, Reyla.”
The words were simple, but they hit hard. It wasn’t just the physical pain unraveling me; something deeper churned inside, messy and knotted and entirely Lorant-shaped. I let out a low breath as he slid an arm beneath my shoulders and eased me up me enough to take the cup.
The first sip tasted bitter, but the second held hints of sweetness. It sent warmth through my veins. It seeped into my limbs, coating the edges of the pain, softening it. After I’d drained the last drop, he magicked the cup away.
He helped me lie back down and laid beside me again. This time, his fingers settled lightly on my stomach. “I’ll rub until it works,” he said, as though that was a normal thing for this man to do. As if him offering didn’t make everything, including my heart, stumble.
“Lorant—”
“Rest.” His voice came out sweet again. “Let me take care of you.”
With steady, circular pressure, his rough hand broke through the tension in my belly. I resisted at first, keeping myself coiled inward, but the potion and his touch pried me open little by little. The pain eased as warmth pooled low, finally unfurling enough to let me breathe deeply again.
“It’s fading, isn’t it?” he said with only Merrick’s kindness.
For now, it was Lorant’s.
“Yes. Thank you. It was…” I swallowed, remembering the sharp dizzying clutch that had knocked me flat earlier. “It felt like it was trying to rip me in half.”
His hand stilled for a breath before he continued with a gentle stroke. “You should never have to feel pain like that. I’ll make sure you don’t.”
“You'll slay all my attacking flow beasts?”
