Five weeks, and every second we wasted felt like broken glass gouging into bare feet.
My gaze searched his, finding an openness there that exposed me. He wasn’t hiding this time. There was no carefully constructed wall of charm, no martyr-king smile lifted to shield him from rejection. He was here, fully, entirely, vulnerably here with me, placing himself into my hands.
Trusting me, of all people, not to shatter him.
It should’ve been empowering, but it felt like I stood at the edge of a cliff beside him. Anything I did now, every decision I made, could send us both careening off the side.
He’d risked far more than I’d ever realized. His health. His sanity. His very life. Because trying to tell me the truth could kill him. And still, he hadn’t stopped trying. He’d let me believe the worst of him, even when it hurt.
His gaze softened in the kind of way that told me he’d noticed something in my expression. Maybe I was revealing too much. I cleared my throat and shifted in his lap like that might somehow force the storm inside me to settle.
“I meant to say thank you,” I said. Too focused on my thoughts, I didn’t realize how wobbly my words might sound until they were out.
“For what?” The concern in his voice sunk under my skin.
“For staying. For not—” I made a vague gesture between us. “Leaving before I woke up.”
His lips twisted in a grimace of a smile that must reflect the turmoil he’d felt while sitting here, holding me in his arms while I slept, knowing that I might wake up and reject him.
Amusement flared in his eyes. “I don’t get enough credit for my ability to hold onto hope.”
A laugh choked out of me. It startled me as much as it seemed to surprise him. “If staying means keeping me trapped in your arms all morning, I might have to lodge a complaint.” My smile made my cheeks ache, but in a good way. I felt like I’d been through a terrifying storm and now a bright dawn arched across the sky.
His eyebrows lifted, his grin full and easy now. “Trapped, is it?” He tipped his head closer, enough for the tips of his hair to tickle my face. “Are you going to keep pretending you don’t like where you are? I could let you go, Wildfire.”
I huffed, rolling my eyes to cover the way my face warmed. Carefully, I slid off his lap, ignoring how cold the loss of his touch felt as I moved away.
When I’d returned from the bathing area, Farris skittered over to bump against my legs, his wagging tail smacking my calves in a rhythm determined to interrupt every serious thought I’d ever had. I snatched his silver ball off the floor and held it up while he leaped to try to grab it.
“If you’re interested in self-improvement, you could work on being a little less full of yourself,” I shot his way, testing how normal my voice sounded. Not completely, but close enough.
Merrick's laugh was like sunlight piercing through dark clouds. “And you could work on admitting when you enjoy something.”
I let the ball hover in the air before tossing it across the room. Farris bolted after it, his claws scraping the floor. “I’ll admit it when you stop acting like it means you’ve won.” I glanced back,over my shoulder. “You’re the one who’s king. Shouldn’t you be focused on winning something a bit more important than me?”
He stood and remained where he was, maybe waiting to see if I’d bolt like my nyxin if he came closer. “Winning you is the most important thing I’ll ever do.”
My smile pinched. I didn't know how to respond to that, to the emotions churning through the room. I covered by crossing to the window, where I stood as straight as I could, rubbing my belly that throbbed dully. Rain speckled the glass, tracing faint lines that reflected back at the gray sky. When I felt more composed, I turned to face him again.
He shrugged in a boyish way that didn’t match the intensity in his gaze. “Truth often sounds dramatic. I'll keep that in mind.” He reached for Farris, who’d been trying to get to me with his ball, his tail wagging hard enough to knock things off a low table. Merrick took it from the nyxin and threw it again.
“I’m glad you were able to sleep,” he said.
In his arms.
I’d been aware of his comfort, his embrace all night. First Lorant and then, later, Merrick.
“I’m even happier to see you moving easily,” he added.
“The cure’s working.”
“I’ll happily craft more for you when the prior starts to wear off.”
“Three days is the usual for me, and sadly, I’m uncomfortable the entire time.” I smirked. “I’ll keep you around to brew it for me each month when I…”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Onlyfiveweeks. There may only be one more month where he’d be here to help me, to hold me until the pain eased.
