Chapter 45 #2
He grins, thinking that he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
He’s become increasingly attuned to me, mirroring the way I’ve always known what he needs or wants.
We’re still growing together, still finding our way, and Jude knows that although much has changed, I’m still the same possessive asshole who doesn’t like it when he keeps secrets.
That doesn't mean I tell him everything, and some secrets are best revealed slowly.
When he's ready.
When he's healed.
“From the kelpies.”
I exhale a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
For a while, I wondered if he would ever feel their pull again.
If the deep, wild part of him that their presence has shaped would one day call him back to the endless wandering they thrived in.
If I would wake one morning and find him gone, vanished into the tides, searching for something I could never give him.
I still. “And?”
“They seem content for now,” Jude says, his voice thoughtful. “They thanked me for writing. Said they’re still wandering, still searching for something of their own. They don’t want to be found. Not yet.”
I watch him closely. He doesn’t say it, but I can hear the note of longing in his voice, the part of him that wants them to find what he has found with me. He wants to know what they will become, and what they will want.
But I already know the answer.
He’s changed. The kelpies have too.
I have spies, of course. Jude doesn’t know, and I won’t make the mistake of telling him.
The kelpies have grown stronger, their magic shifting, their presence flickering like ghosts across the waters.
They seek something, but it isn’t him. Not anymore.
They have begun to carve out a new future, one apart from the past that haunted them.
And I will let them.
For now.
Until they trespass on what is mine.
I shift, my gaze darkening as I watch him. “The kelpies are not a threat to you. They will not take you from me.”
He smiles faintly, tilting his head. “I never said they would.”
“They won’t,” I repeat, and the words come out sharper this time, edged with a deeper, more dangerous and possessive tone. “I won’t allow it.”
Jude exhales, amused but not dismissive.
He knows my nature and he’s accepted it.
He knows I will guard what is mine with the same ruthless devotion I always have.
And he knows that if the kelpies even consider trying to claim any part of him or threaten him in any way, I will tear through the tides and sink their wretched bones beneath the waves myself.
He doesn’t argue. He just steps closer, pressing his palm against my chest, feeling the steady beat of my heart.
“I know, Lorien.”
Jude seems reassured and perhaps a lie told to protect is kinder than cruel honesty.
Because if he knew the truth, if he knew that the kelpies no longer searched for him, if he knew that they had begun to forge their brave new future without him, he would wonder why.
He would ask himself what his worth had been to them, and what it was now.
He would question if any bond he shared with them had been one of necessity and circumstance alone.
And I would rather him believe in a connection that still lingers and fades over time than question if it was ever real at all.
Ignorance is not always a cruelty.
Sometimes, it is a mercy.
“Does that settle whatever it is that’s been disturbing you?” I ask.
Jude is quiet for a long moment. Maybe he thought I hadn’t noticed the way his shoulders have been tense, or how his gaze lingered on the horizon as if he were waiting for a storm to break.
He’s been quieter, more thoughtful since that damn letter arrived, and while he’s always carried his emotions in subtle shifts that most wouldn’t see, I am not most people.
I have always seen him.
Then he nods. “Yeah. It does.”
There was a time when the kelpies’ silence would have gnawed at him, when not knowing what they want or what they will become would have driven him into restless uncertainty.
But he’s steadier now, his edges no longer fraying.
He understands, perhaps better than anyone, that some things are meant to be left to the tide and the way of the ocean.
A whisper stirs against the water, curling through the waves and the night air. It is not a voice, not truly, but it carries words nonetheless.
Balance is never permanent.
Jude stiffens beside me, though he does not seem surprised. Neither am I.
I have always known that peace is only a breath between storms, that the world will always find new ways to break and reshape itself.
That power shifts like the tide, endless in its ebb and flow.
And I know that Jude and I will remain in flux, caught between the currents of what we were and what we are still becoming.
But whatever comes next, we will face it together.
I turn to him, and he is already looking at me, a knowing gleam in his storm-dark eyes. His fingers curl around mine, his grip firm, unwavering.
We have walked through fire and bled beneath the water’s darkness. We have torn each other apart and built each other back up. The Gods themselves have tested and twisted and remade us.
And we won.
A smile ghosts over his lips, and I feel it like the promise it is.
We will always win.
Jude lets out a slow breath, then tilts his head, considering me. “Do you want to go back?”
“To the palace?” I arch a brow. “Or the water?”
He grins. “The water. I’d like to spend a little longer here before we go back home.”
Fuck. He’s called it home.
I school my expression, but my heart pounds in my chest, and it’s both sharp and unexpectedly soft. I’ve never asked him to claim it and always hoped he would. And now he’s done it. Effortlessly. Like it was inevitable. Like he belongs. Like nothing else could exist.
“I’ll wait until you’re finished playing.”
Jude hums, amused, before wading deeper. The water reaches his thighs now, swirling around him like it’s alive and knows him. He lifts a hand, flicking a handful of saltwater in my direction. It doesn’t quite reach, but the challenge is clear.
I narrow my eyes. “Careful.”
He does it again.
I exhale slowly, already moving. I don’t wade.
I don’t walk. I launch. Jude lets out a startled laugh, turning to flee, but I am faster.
He barely makes it three steps before I catch him, hands closing around his waist as I haul him back against me.
He thrashes, laughing now, water splashing around us in chaotic waves.
“This is childish,” I tell him.
“You started it,” he gasps between breathless laughter.
“No, I ended it.”
I shove him under the water for no longer than it takes to remind him of his place before I let him surface. He emerges grinning, shaking droplets from his hair, and I tighten my grip on him, pressing a lingering kiss against the corner of his mouth.
“Done yet?” I ask.
Jude exhales, breath still uneven, his ocean-blue eyes gleaming with mischief.
His hand trails down my front and there’s not a chance this game is over.
Not when he looks at me like he’s just found something he wants to play with in the space between us.
Not when my cock is throbbing and eager to remind him who owns him.
“No,” he murmurs. “Not now. Not ever.”