Dragging in air as if there were little oxygen left in the room, he lifted his head to stare into the face of the woman who owned his heart… And she did, even if he hadn’t realized it then, from the moment he saw her.
Her eyes?—
“Lore, your eyes are glowing white.”
“As are yours,” he rasped.
He disengaged from her warm body, regretting the loss. He sat up, agony flaying him, jabbing red-hot pokers along his shoulder blades.
“What does it mean?” Nia bolted upright, her gorgeous breasts bouncing a little. “Are your powers awakening again? I mean, the first time we made love, it felt similar.”
He tried to breathe through his pain. “I’m not sure…”
He shut his eyes as the ancient goddess’ words seeped through his foggy head.A chance to reignite what you broke.
Their mate bond?
His heart pounded.By the stars!It had to be.
He lifted his head, taking in Nia’s glowing eyes. She was so incredibly beautiful. He lifted a hand, ignoring the spike of pain impaling his back as he caressed her cheek, trying to remember what he knew about soul-joined mates. The only thing that came to mind was that the females possessed power over their mate’s obsidian dagger and…telepathy.
“Obsidian dagger?” Nia repeated. “Telepathy?”
A smile started. “You heard me?”
She blinked. “What?”
“I didn’t say that out loud. It’s what came to mind concerning the gifts of being soul-joined…” His gaze grew tender. His heart filled with so many emotions that they overwhelmed him. “The last time we soul-joined, I had no clue and messed up badly. Neither of us knew what had happened between us.”
And now we do.He heard her soft voice in his mind.
Her smile brightened the room like the dawning sun.
Thiswas his life with her, his light, his happiness…
She truly, finally belonged to him.
“What about the obsidian dagger?” she asked.
He stroked the dent in her chin. “Summon it.”
“What? How?”
“Call it to you.”
She nodded, her brow furrowing as she concentrated… And the dagger appeared in her hand?—
“Eeep!”
She would have leaped from the bed if he wasn’t holding her.
He laughed. “This blade is yours. It’s my mate’s dagger. So, you’ll always be armed and can summon the weapon anytime you need it.”
“Oh, wow.” Grinning, she examined the glittering ebony blade with the amber stones.
Lore shook his head and rubbed his upper arm, then frowned at the ink of a sword made up of a myriad of symbols on his left biceps, like what the other Guardians bore.
More, he could feel the pull of the scabs forming over the wounds where his wings used to be—phantom wings wanting release. Their absence felt as if an intrinsic part of himself had been ripped from his soul.
