Chapter 21
NUDGES AND REVELATIONS
MURIEL
Muriel stood in the middle of the guest room, still wearing her dirt-streaked clothes from the rescue, and tried to remember why she'd left Brandon's room.
Right. Because he was hurt and exhausted. He'd needed rest, not her hovering.
Their bond hummed within her, calmer now in his slumber. She hadn’t realized how much it had become a part of her until he’d cloaked it.
Until she'd almost lost him for good.
The thought hit her again, harder this time. Those hours when he'd been gone, when she'd felt only the faintest flicker of him, had been awful. Like someone had reached into her chest and carved away something essential.
It was the loneliest she’d ever felt. Not even the devastation of her mother’s death had come close.
Muriel grabbed clean clothes from her bag and headed for the bathroom.
The shower was small, but the water ran hot, and she stood under the spray until her skin turned pink, trying to make sense of everything she was feeling.
Guilt that she’d brought this to his door.
Relief that he was safe. Gratitude to everyone who'd helped. Awe at the ease with which she’d called forth energy.
And something else.
Something that felt dangerously like… love.
No. She couldn't trust that. That could be the mate bond amplifying feelings, twisting them into appearing as something more than they really were. She couldn’t allow herself to get pulled in by magical compulsion masquerading as choice.
Except… this didn’t feel like that at all.
Muriel leaned her forehead against the cool tile and let herself really feel the bond for the first time, without walls or anger or fear getting in the way.
There it was, resting contentedly at her center. Not demanding. Not controlling or manipulative. Just waiting patiently for her to acknowledge and accept it.
But how? She barely knew him.
Except, that wasn’t exactly true.
She knew he took his coffee with a splash of cream. That his favorite mug had a faded image of a druidic Awen symbol.
She knew he was thoughtful enough to fill his apartment and his shop with plants so that she would feel comfortable.
That he was kind to strangers and patient with customers who weren't sure what they were looking for, as well as generous with his knowledge and his time.
He was liked and respected enough in the community to have vampires, shifters, and even ghosts willing to fight for him.
She knew him through a thousand small moments. His laugh. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled or glowed when he was angry.
The rightness of his touch.
And now, she knew him through a pure, unfiltered connection that showed her his heart without pretense or performance.
So what if they hadn’t dated in the traditional sense? She knew the things that mattered.
Muriel turned off the water and dried herself roughly with a towel. She pulled on the soft t-shirt she'd surreptitiously swiped from Brandon’s hamper—one that carried the scents of cedar and sandalwood and ozone—and a pair of sleep shorts.
The Codex sat on the bathroom counter where she'd left it, vibrating softly.
She picked it up, and the grimoire pulsed warm beneath her fingers.
Go to him.
“It's too soon,” Muriel whispered.
The Codex pulsed again, more insistently this time.
Go.
Muriel looked at herself in the mirror. Wet hair. Bare face. Brandon's shirt hanging to mid-thigh.
There was no doubt about it. No more fooling herself. She was already his.
What was it Jessie had said? “The bond didn't make me love him. It just made it impossible to pretend I didn't.”
Yeah. She was done pretending.
Muriel left the bathroom and placed the Codex gently on the pillow on her bed. The ancient grimoire settled with a contented sigh that felt almost smug.
She padded down the hallway on bare feet and quietly pushed open Brandon's bedroom door.
He was exactly where she'd left him—sprawled on his back, one arm thrown over his head, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. His face was peaceful in sleep, the worry lines smoothed away.
He was so beautiful.
The urge to climb into bed with him was overwhelming. But that was crazy, right? They hadn’t even kissed.
She rounded the bed and slipped under the covers.
Brandon stirred slightly, then rolled toward her instinctively, one arm draping over her waist, pulling her close. His face buried in her hair, and he made a soft sound of satisfaction.
He was still asleep, but holding her like she was precious.
Muriel's throat went tight. She pressed her hand over his where it rested on her stomach, lacing their fingers together, and felt his heartbeat, steady and strong and perfectly in sync with her own.
“I choose you,” she whispered into the quiet. “I choose this.”
A surge of warmth washed over her, so intense it made her chest ache.
Muriel closed her eyes and let herself sink into the warmth of him, and the rightness of being exactly where she was meant to be.
Tomorrow, they'd talk. She'd tell him everything—that she forgave him, that she understood why he'd hidden the truth, and that the bond wasn't a trap but a gift.
But right now, held snugly in Brandon's strong arms, Muriel let herself simply rest.
Morning came soft and slow.
Muriel woke to pale sunlight filtering through the curtains and the solid warmth of Brandon pressed against her back.
His arm was still around her waist, his breath warm against her neck.
Through the bond, she felt him hovering at the edge of waking—comfortable, content, not quite ready to let go of sleep.
Because he thought he was dreaming.
She smiled and shifted slightly, pressing back against him.
Brandon went very, very still.
Through the bond, she felt his confusion give way to shock. Then a hope so fierce and desperate it made her breath catch.
“Muriel?” His voice was rough with sleep.
“Good morning.”
He didn't move. Didn't tighten his arm or pull her closer. Just stayed frozen, like he was afraid she'd disappear.
“You're here,” he said finally.
“I'm here.”
“In my bed.”
She rolled over to face him, and her breath caught at what she saw in his eyes. Hope and fear and love, swirling among the cerulean blue and the green and amber sparks. “Hi.”
“Hi.” His hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone like he still couldn't quite believe she was real. “I thought—”
“I know what you thought. And I need to tell you something.” She covered his hand with hers.
“I choose you,” she said, softly but clearly.
“Not because I have to, but because I want to.
Because you're kind and patient and you turn bookstores into tropical gardens.
Because you've never once made me feel like I was broken or too much or something that needed fixing.”
Brandon's eyes began to glow.
“I was so angry when I discovered you didn’t tell me about the bond,” she continued. “But last night, knowing you were hurt, feeling you work for hours to free yourself so you could protect me—I realized something.”
“What?”
“It wasn’t the bond that made me feel the way I did. It was you.”
“Muriel—” His voice broke.
She pressed her finger to his lips. “I know you're sorry, and that you were trying to protect me. And I know the bond is real and permanent and something we'll have to navigate together. It isn’t always going to be easy.” She took a breath.
“But I also know it's a gift. Rare and precious and ours.
And I don't want to break it. I want to keep it. Keep you.”
“Are you sure?” The question came out hoarse. “Because we can take it slow. If you need more time, if you're not certain—”
She kissed him.
It was meant to be a soft, reassuring kiss, but the moment their lips met everything changed. The bond flared between them like wildfire, and Brandon made a sound low in his throat that made a new kind of heat erupt in her core—the kind she’d only experienced in dreams.
Until now.
His hand slid into her hair, tilting her head for better access, and he deepened the kiss. Muriel opened for him, and his tongue swept inside, hot and demanding and oh so right.
She pressed closer to him. Their bodies aligned so perfectly. Her soft swells and dips fit to his hard planes, as if they were two halves of a whole. She knew, without a doubt, they would fit together in other ways, too.
“Muriel,” he groaned against her mouth. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
“I'm sure.”
His fingers flexed on her hips, but he remained frustratingly in control of his baser instincts—unlike her, who was ready and willing to climb him like a tree. She knew he wanted her. She could feel the hard proof nestled against the vee of her thighs.
She pulled back only enough to meet his eyes. “Stop being noble for five minutes and kiss me like you mean it.”
The smile that broke across his face was devastating. “Just remember, you asked for it.”
This time when he kissed her, there was nothing gentle about it. His mouth was demanding, his hands moving over her with clear intent, and Muriel felt the bond surge between them. It was pure want meeting want, the need doubling and redoubling until she couldn't breathe for the intensity of it.
She tugged at his jeans—the ones he was still wearing from last night—and he helped her shove them down and off. Then his hands were on her, sliding under the borrowed t-shirt. She gasped as his talented fingers found bare skin.
“You're wearing my shirt,” he said, voice rough.
“Yes. Do you mind?”
“At the moment, yes.”
He pulled the shirt over her head, then took a moment just to look at her. His eyes had gone that impossible, brilliant aquamarine. “You're so beautiful.”
“So are you.” She traced the planes of his chest, careful around the bruised ribs. “Does this hurt?”
“I don't feel anything but you.” He caught her hand and pressed a kiss onto her palm. “But if you want to slow down—”
“Brandon.” She pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips, and his hands came up to span her waist instinctively. “Please stop talking.”
His laugh was breathless. “When did you become so bossy?”
“I already told you—when I realized how close I came to losing you.”
His eyes softened, his gaze penetrating her very soul. She wanted him to look at her like that forever.
“I love you.”
The words made her chest ache in the best way. She leaned down and kissed him, slow and deep, feeling the bond thrum between them, connecting, amplifying, making every touch feel like it was echoing through both of them.
Brandon's hands slid up her sides, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts, and Muriel gasped into his mouth. Through the bond, she felt his pleasure at her reaction, felt it feed back to her and double.
“It’s the bond,” he said between kisses. “No more walls between us. We can feel what the other feels.”
“I feel your pleasure. You feel mine.”
“Yeah.”
His hands were everywhere now—her waist, her hips, the curve of her back.
All at the same time.
Magic swirled around them and pulsed between them, each touch magnifying and multiplying. She scraped her nails against his scalp, imagining all the places she wanted to touch, and just that quickly, it was if she was.
“Quick learner,” Brandon murmured against her lips.
She rocked against him experimentally, and his answering growl was deeply satisfying. She could feel exactly what that did to him. His control was hanging by a thread.
“Muriel.” His voice was strained. “If you keep doing that, I'm not going to last.”
“Then don't.” She did it again, and his hands tightened on her hips. “No more holding back. We’re mated, remember?”
Something in his expression shifted. Restraint gave way to need. He flipped them smoothly, settling between her thighs. The kiss that followed was pure heat.
His hand found its way between them, his eyes shining with approval when he found her slick and ready. He used those talented, truly magical fingers to bring her to an embarrassingly quick climax.
Before she’d even come down, he slid smoothly inside her, seating himself so deep it was impossible to tell where he left off and she began.
Muriel gasped. Not just at the physical sensation of exquisite fullness, but at the rush of raw, unfiltered emotion that flooded her at the same time. The bond blazed so bright Muriel felt it like a living fire wrapped around them both.
He really had been holding back, keeping his magic in check.
“Okay?” Brandon's voice was rough, his control clearly barely holding.
“More than okay.” She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. “Move. Please.”
He did.
They found a rhythm together, and it was like nothing Muriel had ever experienced.
Every thrust sent pleasure cascading through the bond, feeding back, building on itself.
She could feel what he felt—the slick heat of her around him, the pleasure building at the base of his spine.
And she knew he could feel her—the overwhelming fullness, the friction, the way every nerve ending sang.
“Muriel—” His hand slid between them, finding where they were joined.
“Yes.” She was flying apart, magic crackling between them, the bond pulling tighter. “Brandon, I can't—”
“Let go.” He kissed her, deep and consuming. “I've got you.”
The orgasm hit like a tidal wave, pleasure exploding through them both as he emptied into her. For a heartbeat, Muriel couldn't tell where she ended and Brandon began—their magic, their souls, their very beings woven together so completely there was no him and no her, just them.
They collapsed together, breathing hard, skin slick with sweat. Brandon rolled them to the side, keeping her close, his hand stroking lazy patterns down her spine.
She felt his contentment. His love. His absolute certainty that she was everything he'd ever wanted and nothing he’d ever expected to have.
They lay there in comfortable silence, heartbeats gradually slowing. Outside, morning birdsong filtered through the window.
For the first time ever, Muriel felt completely, utterly at peace.