“Is this okay?” he asked, voice low.
He sank into my soul then, and as he did my rational mind scrambled to reject him—but gods help me, I anchored to him, no matter how much I’d sworn I wouldn’t.
“Yes.” The word came out breathless, and for some reason it felt like my answer extended past that moment.
His eyes softened, and a small smile curved his lips before he lifted his hand to cradle my face with both hands. My breath caught as I melted into his warm touch—the simple contact shattering my walls. Pressing my palms against his stomach to balance myself, I closed my eyes and allowed his deep essence to flood me with a sense of fullness and safety that I’d never experienced, and as it dove into the depths of my soul, my vault of pain and burdens unlocked. And just like that, I unraveled, knowing they were no longer mine to carry alone.
“Oh. Little Star,” he breathed, pulling me into his chest. I crumpled into his embrace, feeling small in the most beautiful way as he wrapped me close.
I sobbed uncontrollably, the sounds muffled against his leathers as he took us to the ground and cradled me in his lap. Resting his chin atop my head, he held tight as he continually whispered, “I’ve got you, Little Star. I’ve got you.”
Chapter 53
A Father’s Love
Iawoke feeling empty as I peeled myself off the cold, hard obsidian ground.
“Hey, Spark,” Artton said from the side as I leaned back against the wall between the two summer commanders who’d kept vigil.
“Endymion?” I asked, hating that it was the first word out of my mouth, and hating more how vulnerable I’d been. There was something about that damn male that let him slip past my defenses.
“He left shortly after you fell asleep to grab the antidote and hopefully come up with a plan to get us out of here.” He leaned in a little closer. “How are you feeling?”
I tilted my head back against the wall and sighed. “Like I want to be home.”
“Home, hum?” he teased, bumping his shoulder gently against mine.
“Yeah,” I said, appreciating the levity, “it would be wasteful to let an entire residence go unused.” I looked at him then, smirking.
“Oh no,” he said, dead serious, hand on chest, “we couldn’t have that.”
Sidrick chuckled to my right, and I shifted my focus to him. “And you? How are you feeling?”
He paused for a moment, as if deciding how to answer. “Physically, fine. Though, I feel uncomfortably naked without my powers,” he admitted.
“And emotionally?” I said tentatively.
“Emotionally…” He sighed, drawing his mocha eyes to mine. Of everyone, I knew Sidrick the least, but the earnestness in his gaze made me realize just how much I’d gotten to know him through Kaelun. “Emotionally,” he repeated, now looking into my soul, “I’d go the rest of my life feeling naked if it meant we all got home safe.”
I swallowed. There was something raw in those words. Desperate, even. “This isn’t your fault.”
“Maybe not”—he shook his head—"but Kaelun being hereismy fault. My family will never forgive me if something happens to him."
I went to respond, but Artton beat me to it. Leaning forward to look past me toward his friend and commanding partner, he said, “Don’t do that to yourself. It’s not true, and you know it.”
“Isn’t it?” Sidrick challenged, raising a brow. “We both know he has worshiped the ground I walk on since birth—the ground all of us walk on.” He gestured, and I knew he’d included Caius and me in that statement. “If it weren’t for my position and friendship with you and Caius…” The sentence died on his tongue as he hung his head and dragged his hands through his hair, clutching hard; and I ached for the guilt festering in his heart.
I leaned back allowing Artton to reach over me and wrap a firm hand around the deeply tanned forearm of his friend. Fingers still threaded through his dirty blond hair, Sidrick looked up at his closest friend with so much innocence that it could’ve been Kaelun staring back at us.
“Don’t let guilt rewrite history, brother,” Artton said with a gentleness I’d only heard from him when I’d finally come out of the shared vision; and it wasn’t until that moment that I realized how much of an empath this male was—a trait thatafflicted us both. “You know as well as anyone, that regardless of your position, or our ties, he would’ve ended up here. Kaelun was the youngest fae to manifest an unara and the only one to possess two. Even if they weren’t both extremely powerful in their own right, he’d never escape serving in our political climate—and you know that. If anything, he received the best training possiblebecauseof you. And if you don’t think Caius calling Kaelun into service early wasn’t the hardest decision of his life, you’re dead wrong.”
“The second hardest decision, you mean,” Sidrick countered, referring to how Caius had earned his title.
“No,” Artton said firmly, “the love he holds for your brother is deeper than it ever was for his father. I promise you, I did not mince my words. I know it’s hard. And hells, I’m a fucken hypocrite right now saying all of this because I blame myself forallof you being in this situation. Ultimately, it was my call to move forward, and it was a bad one.”
Sidrick finally unthreaded his fingers from his hair and rested a hand on Artton’s, squeezing it back with emotion dancing in his mahogany eyes. “You didn’t make any of us cross over.”
“And you didn’t make Kaelun join up.”
