"Hard to rest when you're..." She winces, shifting on the table. "Actually, never mind. I'm exhausted. Wake me up when there's blood. I'm starving."
Her eyes drift closed, and within seconds, her breathing evens out. Her presence dims at the edge of my mind. Not disappearing, but quieting. Resting.
I stand by her bedside for a long moment, watching her sleep. The rise and fall of her chest. The heartbeat, our heartbeat, pulsing steadily beneath her skin. The crimson mark glowing softly in the dim light.
"Sir." Marcellus appears in the doorway. "Nadia is requesting a debrief. The others have questions."
Of course they do. The inner circle will want to know everything. About the trap, about Valentina, about Konstantin's escape. About the bond. About the weapon sleeping in her blood.
I should go. Should handle the political fallout, reassure my people, and start planning our next move.
Instead, I pull a chair next to Celeste's bed and sit down.
"Tell Nadia I'll brief everyone at sunset tomorrow," I say. "Tonight, I'm staying here."
Marcellus looks at me for a long moment. Then, for the first time in a long time, he smiles.
"Yes, sir," he says. And leaves us alone.
I take Celeste's hand in mine, feeling the pulse of our shared heartbeat through our joined fingers. My other hand rests against my chest, over the mark that proves what we've become.
Tomorrow, I'll deal with Konstantin. With the war. With the trigger buried in her blood that we need to find and destroy before he can use it.
But tonight, I'm exactly where I need to be.
With her.
Chapter
Thirty-Three
Iwake to the sound of a heartbeat.
Not just any heartbeat. Ours. The steady rhythm pulses through me, synchronized, a miracle neither of us can explain.
Before I open my eyes, I feel him.
Not his body, though I sense that too. The coolness of him beside me, the weight of his hand in mine. Something deeper. His emotions, bleeding into my awareness like ink in water. Relief, so profound it aches. Worry, still lingering at the edges. And love, vast and terrifying and certain.
He loves me. I've known it, heard him say it, but this is different. This is feeling the truth of it in my own chest, undeniable and overwhelming.
I open my eyes.
Maximus is beside me, sitting in a chair pulled close to my bed. He looks exhausted. Blood still streaked across his shirt, shadows under his eyes, his normally immaculate appearance wrecked from battle. But his gaze is fixed on my face, and when hesees me looking back, I feel his relief surge through the bond like a wave.
"You're awake." His voice is rough.
"You look terrible."
He laughs, a short, surprised sound. "You almost died."
"Don't remind me." I try to sit up and wince as pain flares in my side. The wound is still there, still healing, but the wrongness is gone. The unraveling has stopped.
"Careful." His hands are on me immediately, helping me upright, adjusting pillows behind my back. Through the bond, I feel his concern spike. "Elena says you need rest."
"How long was I out?"
"Through the day. It's evening now." His thumb traces circles on my wrist, right over the pulse point. I feel his wonder at the sensation. A heartbeat where there shouldn't be one. "How do you feel?"
