The door flings open. Heavy boots thud through the room.
Me, they’re looking for me.
“Mayah,” they call, rough, foreign voices. “Princess Mayah, come out. We won’t hurt you.”
Lies, lies, lies.
The closet door barrels open. I’m blinded by light. Large hands grip my arms, yanking me out.
The mattress dips, covers pulled back. Calloused hands wrap around my arms. “Mayah, open your eyes.”
“No! No, no, no!” I struggle and writhe, trying to escape their hold. “NO! NO!”
“Mayah,” the voice calls again. Every syllable thrums with panic.
I know this voice.
I know it in my bones.
His breath catches on his next words. “Mayah, it’s me. You’re safe, baby. Open your eyes.”
I stop struggling. I know him. It’shim. I’m safe. I’m safe with him.
I open my eyes.
It’s Zev. And his face looks as broken as I feel.
I launch myself into his arms, losing myself in his familiar scent.
Sobs rack my body, but he holds me tight.
He doesn’t let go.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I’msafe.
In Zev’s arms, I’m safe.
He cradles me against the firm pillar of his chest, murmuring soothing words as the storm rages around us. His large hand rubs tender circles over my back, anchoring me against him.
Every crack of thunder echoes in my chest.
Zev wipes my tears with the pads of his thumbs, still whispering reassurances muffled by the ringing in my ears. But Ifeelthem—like the steady beat of a drum calling me back from the dark.
Hours later, or maybe just minutes, the storm dies down, softening into a gentle drizzle. My body trembles in his arms. I’m wrung out—bone-deep tired, like my muscles remember the fear, even now. I pull back slightly, just slightly, and look at my husband’s face. His gray eyes brim with worry, a deep crease set between his strong brows.
I take a shaky breath. “Thank you,” I whisper, the words dry in my ravaged throat.
My eyes widen. Tides drown me. “The Volcan delegation. You were supposed to—”
“It’s all right,” he says gently, brushing back a damp lock of my hair. “My father and brother will take care of it. I need to take care of you.”
My heart stutters. I don’t know what to say, what Icansay to him that would express the warm gratitude flowing through me like a gentle current.
I know what Iwantto say, but the raging storm within my chest terrifies me. I’m terrified of being hurt—and of hurting.
So I don’t say anything, just let myself melt into the strong circle of his arms.
