Page 324 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

I wasn’t alone in this—not anymore. It was written in the pinch of her expression, the tremble of her chin, the shimmer on her skin. Every wall she let collapse made room for me inside her soul. Her grief was a kind of invitation. A vow that we could survive this world together, even when everything else was shattering. Bringing her hands to my chest, I slid her palm over my heart.

“Real, Freya. Right here. I’m real.”

“Cyrus, I…” Her words drifted off. She wet her lips—lips I suddenly ached to worship. Just to show her we’d made it. Just to prove we were still here.

She’d saved us. Against all odds, she’d dragged us both back.

“I know,” I breathed. The waves behind us swallowed the words, but I knew she heard me. She didn’t need to say it. Every tear, every tremble in her voice, her hands, her lips—she was already telling me everything she couldn’t bear to speak aloud. “I’m sorry.”

“You left me.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, her anguish moving through me like a contagion.

But beneath the grief…relief.

This wasn’t a soul who’d rejected our Bond.

This was a woman who would’ve razed the earth to free me, who wouldn’t have cared how many souls burned in the fire.

Convinced the fight had gone out of her, I carefully released her wrists, my fingers sweeping up her arms. One hand found her waist and climbed along her ribs, brushing the countless blades she had tucked against her leathers. Her hands ghosted over my chest, down my sides, and back again, finally pausing over the silver scar Nix had left behind.

Each stroke was a forgotten song I never thought I’d hear again.

“So sorry.”

The window of vulnerability she’d opened began to narrow again. Her fingers tightened where they clung to my obliques, anger creeping back in to cover the wreckage like a familiar cloak.

I understood. I was trying to do the same thing. Because the thought of half my soul walking around in someone else’s body was an inhuman kind of terror.

A vulnerability we could barely afford.

“You think you get to leave me like that and pretend nothing happened?” she snarled, squeezing harder, like she wanted it to hurt but couldn’t bring herself to mean it. Her hands trembled. I met her gaze and held it.

“You think you get to go out like that? Looking at me like I’m the last thing you’ll ever see? Fuck you, Cyrus Stuart.”

She shoved against me—half-hearted, furious—and pulled me closer in the same breath, her nails biting into my skin.

Refusing to let her close herself off again, I slid my hands up her arms, one curving gently beneath her jaw. I lowered my forehead to hers, grounding us both.

She smacked her palms against my chest again, but there was no venom in it this time. “I beat my fists bloody on that glass,” she whispered. “And you just…stared. Do you have any idea what that felt like?”

I shook my head slowly, brushing my nose along hers as she pressed her fists tighter against me.

Gently, I slipped one hand around her wrist and brought it to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles—healed now, thank fuck.

“Don’t,” she whimpered. The word splintering in her throat. “Don’t you do that to me, Cyrus. I am not built to lose. I’m the one who leaves. Because I cannot breathe air and somehow let go.” I kissed her knuckles again. And again. The skin too smooth now where she’d broken herself to reach me.

The more she spoke, the more her hands trembled, the adrenaline still running sharp beneath her skin even as her voice turned fierce.

“Pull a stunt like that again and I will shred this realm to get you back. And mark my words—if I fail, I will follow you. So do us both a favor, and have the decency to take me with you next time. Because I’m not doing that again.”

A dark laugh broke loose from my chest.

“You were scared for me,” I said, unable to stop the smile spreading across my lips.

“Get fucked,” she choked, a watery laugh escaping as she shoved her palm against my face, her thumb grazing my jaw, her jade eyes scalding.

“You were scared for me,” I teased, more insistently now.