Love.
Not because I'd earned it. Not because I deserved it. But because she'd chosen to give it to me anyway. Because she saw past the guilt and the violence and the darkness to something worth saving.
And maybe—maybe—that was enough.
I tilted her chin up and kissed her—deep and fierce and claiming, pouring everything I couldn't say into the contact.
"I love you too," I said against her lips. "And when we're somewhere safe, I'm completing our bond."
"Promise?"
"Promise." I pulled back enough to look into her eyes, letting her see the truth of what I was saying. "Whatever comes next, we face it together."
She smiled—bright and genuine and beautiful, like the sun breaking through storm clouds.
"Then let's get the hell out of here."
I took a step toward the doorway where Starfield waited, ready to leave this blood-soaked warehouse behind forever—and the world tilted sideways.
My leg buckled. The ground rushed up to meet me.
Merrilee caught me before I hit the floor, her arms wrapping around my waist with surprising strength for someone so much smaller than me. She grunted with the effort of keeping me upright, her shoulder wedging under my arm to take some of my weight.
"Whoa, easy there, big guy." Her voice was strained but steady. "I've got you."
I tried to straighten, to pull away, to prove I was fine—but my body had other ideas. My vision swam, dark spots dancing at the edges. The adrenaline that had been holding me together was finally wearing off, leaving behind the reality of broken ribs, torn muscles, and blood loss.
"I'm—" I started to sayfine, but the word died on my lips when I saw her face.
She was looking at me with a mixture of concern and exasperation, one eyebrow raised in that way that said she wasn't buying whatever bullshit I was trying to sell her.
"You really do look like crap," she said bluntly. "And I mean that with all the love in my heart, but seriously—you look like death warmed over and then kicked down a flight of stairs."
Despite everything—the pain, the exhaustion, the bone-deep weariness—I found myself smiling. "Tell me how you really feel."
"I feel like I need to get you fixed up before you collapse and I have to drag your oversized ass across the wastelands." She adjusted her grip, taking more of my weight. "Come on. One foot in front of the other. You can do this."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to insist that I was fine, that I could walk on my own, that I didn't need help. But the truth was written in every labored breath, every spike of pain that shot through my chest with each movement.
"Healing first," I agreed, the words coming out rougher than I intended. "Then sex."
Merrilee laughed—a bright, surprised sound that echoed through the warehouse. "Oh, you've got your priorities straight, I see."
"Always." I leaned more heavily on her, letting her guide me toward the exit.
We moved slowly, her supporting me, me trying not to put too much weight on her smaller frame. Each step was an exercise in willpower, but I kept moving.
Just one step at a time, together.
Chapter 20
Merrilee
In the burgeoning twilight, the shack looked smaller than I remembered—like it had somehow shrunk in the hours I'd been gone.
Maybe it was because we'd just come from what amounted to a battlefield. Maybe it was because I'd ridden with the Welati, their war cries still echoing in my ears. Maybe it was because I'd seen Ahrick break his chains with his bare hands, watched the metal snap like thread. Maybe it was because I'd watched Persico drive a sword through Hewes's chest and chop his head off with no more effort than I would squash a bug.
Maybe it was because everything felt different now. Changed.
