Chapter 35
Savla
Hanna’s breathing finally softened into a fragile, steady rhythm. Ribbon stayed half-flopped across her legs, making soft, worried, burbling sounds. I rested on the edge of the cot, close enough to feel her warmth and close enough that her fingers stayed tangled in mine even as she slept.
As the minutes passed, her eyes fluttered again—slow, heavy and fighting their way back to consciousness. When she blinked up at me, her gaze clearer this time, something inside me unraveled.
“Savla…?” she whispered.
My chest tightened at the soft sound of her voice.
“I’m here,” I murmured.
She swallowed, breath trembling. “I didn’t dream it.”
“No,” I said softly. “You didn’t dream any of it.”
Her gaze drifted down to our joined hands, then back up to my jaw, my cheek and my eyes.
“You came for me,” she said again, her voice so much smaller. “You tore through the glamor like it was nothing. I felt you before I saw you.”
I exhaled slowly. “It wasn’t nothing. I almost—” I stopped myself before the rage resurfaced. Before the memory of her limp body inside that cocoon made my rage flare again.
She reached up with her free hand, cupping the side of my face and her thumb brushed my cheekbone in a soft, shaky line. Heat surged under my skin.
“Savla,” she whispered. “Look at me.”
I did what she asked and her eyes filled with something I couldn’t hide from, couldn’t dodge and couldn’t fight—something warm, terrified and honest.
“The bond… it didn’t lie,” she murmured. “I could feel you calling back to me. You were scared for me and you—you wanted me safe.”
“Hanna…” My voice cracked.
She pushed herself up onto her elbows with effort, leaning closer, her hair falling around her shoulders like a curtain. Ribbon croaked in complaint until Hanna stroked his head reassuringly. Then Hanna looked back at me. Her gaze was direct, soft and certain.
“Don’t protect me from the truth,” she whispered. “I won’t break.”
Gods.
She thought I was protecting her from the truth. No. I’d been too busy protecting myself.
“I’m not afraid of us,” she said. “I never have been.”
That hit me harder than any blow. A tremor ran through me, every muscle tightening as though bracing for impact.
“You don’t understand what you’re asking for,” I murmured, my fingers aching to touch her. My heart aching to touch her.
Her hand slid from my cheek to my jaw, her fingers warm against my skin.
“Then explain it to me.”
“I could lose myself,” I rasped.
“Not this again,” she laughed, shocking me as her eyes softened. “You didn’t tonight.”
I stared at her—really stared—taking in the exhaustion lining her face, the faint shimmer of glamor residue on her skin and the bruises blooming along her arms and collarbone. She should’ve been terrified of everything.
In fact, she should’ve been curled in on herself. If I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t even be able to look at me right now. Not after everything she’d been through tonight and everything I’d done to push her away.
But she wasn’t. Instead, my brave female was reaching for me. She trusted me.
“I thought I’d lose you,” I whispered.
“You didn’t,” she said in a low voice that touched my soul.
“Because we got there in time,” I explained, my voice on the verge of cracking with the intense emotions racing through me.
“You didn’t give up.” She leaned closer until her forehead nearly touched mine. “Because somewhere inside you, you knew I was yours to save.”
The word yours was my undoing. The bond surged—pure, bright and certain—wrapping through my ribs in a way that felt like breathing. Her breath brushed my lips.
My voice was a whisper of pain—pain that I’d inflicted on us all by myself. “Hanna…”
She swallowed. “Savla, tell me. Tell me what this is.”
I should’ve pulled back and walked out, allowing her to rest. I should have done anything else, but I had to lean in. Slowly, without thought or intention, I did the inevitable.
My female’s lashes lowered, and her fingers tightened in my hair. I didn’t remember moving—one moment there was space between us, the next her lips brushed mine. It was barely a kiss. More like a collision of breath and trembling warmth.
She inhaled sharply, and then I kissed her for real. Soft at first, because she’d been hurt. Then deeper, because I’d almost lost her. Then with everything I’d been holding back since the moment I’d met her—fear, longing, desperation and devotion.
Her hand slid behind my neck and she whispered my name against my mouth like a plea. Ribbon croaked indignantly but neither of us stopped.
I took her mouth with a ferocity that I shouldn’t have. Not when she was injured, but I did anyway. I couldn’t stop myself.
When I finally pulled back, I rested my forehead against hers. Our breaths mingled together and her fingers curled around the back of my shirt as if I might disappear. I couldn’t look away from her and I didn’t even bother to try.
“Hanna,” I whispered, the truth clawing its way out of my chest before I could stop it, “I love you.”
Her breath hitched, and she stared up at me as if she was desperately wishing she wasn’t dreaming. How could I be anything but honest with her when she was looking at me like that?
“I shouldn’t,” I said, voice breaking. “Gods, I shouldn’t. And I tried not to, I swear. I fought it. I fought myself. But when you were gone—when I felt you slipping—I realized it.”
Her hands framed my face, gentle and unshaking.
“Savla…” she gasped.
I swallowed hard, my voice a raw confession.
“I love you. I’m in love with you. I think I have been from the first moment you looked at me.”
Her eyes filled, shimmering. And then—quietly, like an answer the universe had been waiting on—
“I love you, too.”
The bond exploded—light, warmth and certainty flooding through us in a single shared breath.
I kissed her again, slow and reverent this time, like she was something holy. Because she was.
I woke with a weight on my chest.
Not emotional weight or mental weight. Actual, literal, slightly crushing weight. The kind that made it difficult to breathe.
I blinked my eyes open—and found a mountain toad draped over my torso like a smug, damp blanket. Ribbon let out a tiny snore. And next to Ribbon—pressed into my side, warm, soft and breathing steadily—was Hanna.
Her hand rested on my ribs, her cheek was pressed against my bicep and her hair was spilling across my chest in a mass of curls that smelled delicious, even after her debacle.
My fingers tightened where I was holding her close to me, splayed across her back and ass.
She was safe, here with me and mine. A low, possessive growl left my throat as the bond pulsed gently—like morning sunlight rather than a storm.
I tried to shift, but Ribbon only snuggled harder, croaking sleepily and trapping me like a creature determined to suffocate me with affection. A soft voice stirred near my arm.
“Savla?” Hanna murmured, still half-asleep.
My entire body softened. “I’m here.”
She blinked up at me—still drowsy, still delicate from yesterday’s trauma—then smiled. A real smile. Small, warm and utterly devastating.
“Hi,” she whispered.
I exhaled the breath that I’d been holding in while staring at her. “Hi.”
She glanced down at Ribbon.
“Is he… sleeping on you?” she asked in that same low voice.
“Yes,” I sighed.
“And are you… stuck?”
“Yes.”
A quiet laugh escaped her. It was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.
“Well,” she said, lifting her hand to brush a strand of hair from my jaw, “at least we know he approves of us.”
“If he didn’t,” I muttered, “I’d be free right now.”
Hanna giggled again—but then winced, bringing a hand to her temple.
Immediately, I pushed myself up on an elbow—or tried to. Ribbon was still pinning half my chest, and if I moved, I’d wake him up.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Headache. Just a glamor hangover, I think. Floria warned me I’d feel like I drank too much booze.”
“I’m getting her,” I said, trying again to sit up.
Ribbon croaked loudly, offended that I dared to move.
Hanna placed a hand on my sternum. “Savla. I’m okay.”
Her touch and her voice stilled me more than anything else in the world could have. The bond thrummed warm and steady through my chest and veins. I had a moment to wonder if this was how my brothers felt all the time. And if it was, how did they survive being separated from their mates?
Gods help me.
I melted under her palm.
“You should rest,” I said anyway, clearing my throat to regain some level of sanity. “Your body went through too much.”
“And you should stop trying to pretend you didn’t sit in this room all night holding my hand.”
Ribbon croaked in agreement. I scowled at them both.
“I didn’t hold it the entire night,” I denied.
Hanna looked down where our fingers were still intertwined. I coughed.
“Just mostly the entire night.”
She smiled again—soft and blinding all at once. Then Ribbon flopped off us with the grace of a boulder rolling downhill. The sudden freedom of movement nearly flung me off the cot.
Hanna gasped in laughter. “Careful!”
I regained my balance, glared at Ribbon, and offered Hanna my hand.
“Can you stand?” I asked, concerned for her.
She tried—and her knees buckled instantly. I caught her, her breath hitching as I wrapped my arms around her.
My hands landed on her waist, steadying her. Her hands were pressed against my chest, and her face was inches from mine. Everything inside me stilled.
“Savla…” she whispered, voice shaking—not from weakness this time, but from something else entirely.
I swallowed hard. “I’ve got you,” I murmured.
Her soulful eyes met mine. “I know,” she whispered.
She looked like she wanted to kiss me again and I probably looked like a male who’d let the world burn if she asked. But I cleared my throat and forced my rational brain to return.
“You’re not walking anywhere,” I told her.
Before she could argue, I lifted her into my arms. Her gasp brushed my neck, sending goosebumps down my back.
“Savla—!”
“You can barely stand,” I said, adjusting my grip. “You’re not going anywhere under your own strength.”
She buried her face against my collarbone in embarrassment, sending a shiver through my body.
“Everyone’s going to stare,” she murmured.
“They can stare,” I told her, trying to ignore everything that was happening to my body against my wishes.
She looked up again. “That doesn’t embarrass you?”
“They can stare,” I repeated, voice rougher than intended. “Because you’re mine to protect and I’m not giving up that privilege for anything.”
Her breath caught and I regretted the words the second they left my mouth—but she didn’t pull back. She didn’t look startled or afraid the way I would expect. In fact, her eyes were warm and welcoming.
“Okay,” she whispered.
We stepped into the hall and were immediately bombarded.
“Oh my Goddess Mother, they’re cuddling!” Becca screeched. “Rok, look!”
“If you drop her, I’ll hex your spine,” Zara hissed.
Then Tasia murmured, “If he drops her, I’ll kill him first.”
Rudgar sighed. “Everyone quiet. They’re tired.”
Tabitha huffed out a breath. “It’s about time if you ask me.”
“We should have the mating ceremony in the gathering hall,” Dristan said. “So there won’t be too many unwanted visitors. Keep it small.”
“Please name your firstborn after me,” Penelope called from where she was carrying her youngling.
Hanna covered her face. “Please tell me I’m hallucinating.”
“You’re not,” I muttered.
Ribbon croaked loudly and hopped in circles around us like an overexcited puppy in a toad’s body. Zara pointed at him.
“See? Even Ribbon knows,” she insisted.
I carried Hanna to the dining hall even though she murmured that she could walk on her own. I ignored her.
“I’m fine,” she insisted. I ignored her harder.
By the time we reached the long table, Pen had already set out breakfast and ordered everyone to behave. They did not, in fact, behave. The entire clan and coven stared as I set Hanna gently into a chair.
And as she looked back at me like I’d hung the moon, it made my hands shake. I turned to get her tea—and she reached out, catching my fingers.
“Savla?” she whispered.
I looked down at her where her eyes were soft, still tired, still bruised, but warm with something that made my ribs ache.
“Sit with me?”
Gods.
I sat right beside her, close enough that our legs brushed. Close enough to feel the bond humming like a quiet song. I looked up to see that all the other members of our clan were doing the same with their mates. Sitting next to them with relaxed postures and fulfilled, contented expressions.
So this is what mating is.
Hanna exhaled shakily and rested her head on my shoulder.
All of the chatter and conversation that had been happening around us stopped entirely.
Enka dropped his fork, the clatter noisy in the silence around us, Tabitha grinned like she’d orchestrated the entire thing, and Dristan muttered something about ‘finally’ while rolling his eyes.
Krusk murmured, “If anyone speaks, I’ll break your jaw.”
But I couldn’t take my eyes off Hanna.
“Hanna,” I said quietly, heart pounding. “About last night—”
Her fingers slid into mine under the table.
“Do you regret it?” she whispered.
“No,” I said instantly.
Her breath hitched. I took a slow, shaking breath and turned to face her fully.
“Hanna,” I murmured, voice cracking, “I meant it.”
She blinked. “Meant what?”
I lifted her hand to my lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her fingers.
“I love you,” I said in a low voice, that I knew could still be heard by everyone in the room.
Her breath trembled out of her and she leaned in.
“I love you, too,” she gasped, her eyes wet with tears.
And this time—in full view of the clan and the coven—with Ribbon croaking like a cheering stadium and with everyone holding their breath—I kissed her. Slow, sweet and certain. The bond lit up like a sunrise after a cold night.
And nothing had ever felt more right.