Chapter 4 Heidi
HEIDI
The Nashai's words echo in my head like a death sentence. Soul-bonded pairs share strength, magic, life force.
No. Absolutely fucking not.
I've spent six years making sure I belong to no one, owe nothing to anyone, answer to nobody but myself.
I've bled for that freedom, starved for it, nearly died for it more times than I can count.
And now some cosmic joke thinks it can just..
. assign me to a stranger? Like I'm property to be redistributed at the gods' whim?
The pulling sensation in my chest grows stronger, like invisible hooks trying to drag me toward the massive xaphan whose fingers are still wrapped around my wrist. I can feel his warmth even through the contact, unnatural heat that makes my skin tingle in ways I don't want to think about.
"This is insane." The words come out steadier than I feel. "You can't just... claim someone based on magical mumbo-jumbo."
His golden eyes narrow, molten metal cooling to something harder and more dangerous. "I didn't claim anything. The gods made this choice for both of us."
"Well, the gods can go fuck themselves." I yank against his grip, knowing it's pointless but needing to try anyway. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
The Nashai makes a soft sound that might be disapproval, but I'm beyond caring about offending divine sensibilities. My entire world just got turned upside down by forces I don't understand, connected to a man I don't know, and everyone expects me to just... accept it?
Not happening.
"You don't have a choice," the xaphan says, his voice carrying the kind of authority that probably makes most people fall in line immediately. Too bad for him I've never been good at following orders. "The bond will kill you if we don't—"
"Then I'll die free." The words surprise me with their vehemence, but they're true. I'd rather face death on my own terms than surrender my autonomy to cosmic forces that treat people like game pieces.
His expression shifts, something that might be respect flickering behind the irritation. "Admirable sentiment. Stupid, but admirable."
"Fuck you."
"Later, perhaps." The casual arrogance in his tone makes my teeth clench. "Right now, we're leaving."
He tugs me toward the chamber entrance, and this time I dig my heels in with everything I have. My worn boots scrape against marble as I throw my full weight backward, using every trick I learned on the streets to make myself dead weight.
"I said no!"
"And I said we're leaving." He doesn't even seem to notice my resistance, pulling me along like I weigh nothing at all. "You can walk or I can carry you. Your choice, little thief."
The condescending nickname snaps something inside me. I've been called worse things by worse people, but something about the way he says it—like I'm amusing rather than threatening—ignites a rage that burns hotter than his stupid magical warmth.
"My name is Heidi." The words come out sharp enough to cut glass. "Heidi Marlowe. Not 'little thief,' not 'human,' not whatever other dismissive bullshit you want to call me. If you're going to ruin my life, at least have the courtesy to use my actual name."
He stops walking, those molten gold eyes studying my face with new attention. For a moment, something almost like curiosity replaces the arrogant authority in his expression.
"Heidi." He tests the name like he's tasting wine, rolling it around his mouth to judge its quality. "Fine. Heidi Marlowe who thinks death is preferable to divine intervention."
"Heidi Marlowe who knows that being owned by someone else isn't living," I correct, meeting his stare without flinching. "I've been there. I won't go back."
Something flickers in his expression—understanding, maybe, or recognition. But it passes too quickly for me to be sure, replaced by the same implacable determination that's been driving him since we left his club.
"You won't be owned." His voice carries a conviction I don't trust. "But you also won't be left to die from magical exhaustion because you're too stubborn to accept help." He glares at me. "I refuse to let you take me down with you."
"I don't need your help."
"The bond forming in your chest says otherwise."
He's right, and I hate him for it. The pulling sensation has grown stronger during our argument, like invisible hands trying to draw me closer to his massive frame. It's not painful exactly, but it's wrong—a foreign presence in my body that I can't control or escape.
I want to rip it out with my bare hands.
"I'm not going anywhere with you," I repeat, but the words sound hollow even to me.
"Yes, you are." He starts walking again, and this time when I resist, he simply lifts me off my feet. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but we are leaving this temple."
I swing at his face, putting all my weight behind the punch. He catches my wrist without even looking, his reflexes inhumanly fast.
"The hard way, then."
Before I can react, he spins me around and presses me against the chamber wall, my back flat against cold marble while his body cages me in. One hand holds both my wrists above my head, the other braced beside my face as he leans down to bring us eye level.
"Listen carefully." His voice drops to something barely above a whisper, but it carries more menace than shouting.
"I have a daughter at home who's expecting me back.
I have business obligations that won't wait for your philosophical objections to divine interference.
And I have exactly zero patience for stubborn humans who would rather die than accept that some things are beyond their control. "
His proximity does things to my body that I absolutely don't want to acknowledge. Heat radiates from his skin in waves, surrounding me in warmth that makes me want to lean closer instead of pulling away. The scent of him—smoke and cedar and something darker—fills my lungs with each breath.
"If you don't stop fighting me," he continues, his golden eyes boring into mine, "I will tie you up and carry you out of here like a package. Is that what you want?"
The threat should terrify me. Should make me recoil in horror at the thought of being bound and helpless. Instead, traitorous heat flares low in my stomach, my body responding to the dominance in his voice with interest I definitely don't want to feel.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
"You wouldn't dare." The words come out too breathy, betraying the confusion warring with anger in my chest.
His eyes narrow as he studies my face, reading whatever emotions I'm failing to hide. Then his mouth curves in something that's not quite a smile, predatory and knowing.
"Wouldn't I?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with implications that make my pulse race for all the wrong reasons. I can feel my cheeks heating under his scrutiny, my body's treacherous reaction to being pinned and threatened by someone who could probably snap me in half without trying.
He's gorgeous in the way that dangerous things are gorgeous—like fire or lightning or the edge of a blade.
All sharp angles and controlled power, built for violence but wrapped in enough dark appeal to make it tempting instead of merely terrifying.
The kind of beautiful that gets people killed when they forget what they're looking at.
And he's a complete asshole who's trying to drag me off to gods know where based on some cosmic coincidence neither of us wanted.
Standard for xaphan, really. Beautiful, powerful, and convinced the universe revolves around their convenience.
"This is ridiculous." He releases my wrists and steps back, but doesn't give me enough space to run. "Fighting the inevitable only makes it worse for everyone involved."
"Inevitable for you, maybe." I rub feeling back into my wrists, glaring at him with all the venom I can muster. "I didn't ask to be part of your cosmic drama."
"Neither did I." His admission catches me off guard, the first crack in his absolute authority since this nightmare started. "But we don't always get what we want."
The Nashai clears her throat from somewhere behind us, a polite sound that still manages to carry divine displeasure. "Perhaps this conversation would be better continued elsewhere? The temple is meant for reflection, not territorial disputes."
Territorial disputes. Like I'm some piece of land he's trying to claim instead of a person with her own will and desires.
"We're leaving." The xaphan—Mihalis, the Nashai called him—straightens to his full height, wings rustling with barely contained impatience. "Now."
"I'm not—"
He doesn't let me finish the protest. One moment I'm standing on my own feet, the next I'm being lifted like I weigh nothing at all. But instead of throwing me over his shoulder like before, he cradles me against his chest, one arm under my knees and the other supporting my back.
The position is somehow more humiliating than being carried like cargo.
It's intimate, possessive, the kind of hold that implies ownership rather than simple transportation.
My hands instinctively clutch at his shirt for balance, bringing me close enough to feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through the fabric.
"Put me down." The demand lacks conviction, my voice muffled against the warm expanse of his chest.
"No."
He strides toward the temple's main doors, carrying me like I'm some sort of prize he's claimed rather than a person he's abducting. The Nashai watches us go with serene acceptance, as if xaphan carrying off struggling humans is just another day's work for her.
The winter air hits us like a slap when we emerge from the temple's warmth, sharp enough to make me gasp and curl instinctively closer to his heat. His wings spread wide as we step onto the marble steps, black feathers tipped with red catching the light from the temple's enchanted lanterns.
"What are you—"
The question dies in my throat as his wings beat once, powerful enough to lift us both off the ground. My stomach drops as the temple falls away beneath us, marble and gold shrinking to toy-sized proportions while we rise into the winter night.
Flying.
He's actually flying.
I've seen xaphan in the air before, distant figures moving between the city's towers like predatory birds. But being carried through the sky is something else entirely—a combination of terror and wonder that steals my breath and makes my heart hammer against my ribs.
The wind tears at my hair and dress, winter air sharp enough to make my eyes water.
Below us, New Solas spreads like a constellation fallen to earth, lights glowing warm against snow-dusted streets.
The view is breathtaking and horrible all at once, beautiful enough to make me forget for a moment that I'm being kidnapped by magical forces beyond my control.
"Where are you taking me?" I have to shout over the wind, my voice barely carrying above the sound of his wings cutting through the air.
"Home." The word carries finality, as if the matter was settled the moment divine magic decided to interfere with both our lives. "My home, where you'll stay until we figure out what the fuck the gods want from us."
The presumption in his voice makes me want to hit something, preferably his smug face. But we're hundreds of feet above unforgiving stone, and struggling now would only ensure I fall to my death rather than simply being abducted.
This is not how my night was supposed to go.