Chapter 30 #2
"I thought you were dead," he said, voice raw. "When I got there and saw you on that floor, saw what he'd done to you—" His thumb brushed across my cheekbone, trembling slightly. "You could have died. You nearly did die. And if you had—"
“I'm sorry.” I covered his hand with mine. “I didn't want you to try to stop me. I had to—"
"I know." He leaned his forehead against mine, breathing hard. "I know why you did it. I understand. But that doesn't make it okay. It doesn't make it less terrifying to wake up and find you gone."
The full weight of what he'd experienced—the gut-wrenching fear, the desperate ride to reach me, the horror of seeing me bleeding—filtered through me. Three days of watching me unconscious, terrified I'd never wake up.
And underneath it all: fury that I'd taken such a risk. That I'd left him. That I'd nearly taken myself away from him permanently.
“I'm sorry,” I sent again, meaning it completely. “I should have told you. Should have let you come with me.”
"Yes, you should have." His eyes met mine, still burning with emotion. "We're partners, Merrit. Equals. That means you don't get to make decisions like that alone. You don't get to protect me by risking yourself."
“You're right.”
"I know I'm right." He kissed me, hard and almost angry. "Don't ever do that again. Don't ever—"
I kissed him back, pouring every piece of my heart into him. “I won't. I promise.”
He pulled back just enough to study my face, searching for the truth. What he found there must have satisfied him because some of the fury eased, though the intensity remained.
"I love you," he said, voice still rough. "So much it terrifies me. And when I thought I'd lost you, when I thought you'd died without knowing how much you mean to me—"
“I know.” I touched his face gently. “I felt it. Even unconscious, I felt you there. Watching over me. Refusing to leave.”
"Of course I didn't leave." His hand slid into my hair, grip possessive. "You're mine. My Whisperbound. My partner. My everything. And you scared me half to death."
The bond pulsed between us—relief and anger and love all tangled together in a way that made my chest tight.
"I want to be pissed at you," he murmured, lips brushing mine. "I want to yell at you for being so reckless. For leaving me."
“But?”
"But you're awake. You're alive. You're here." He kissed me again, slower this time but no less intense. "And I can't think about anything except how grateful I am that you're okay. That I didn't lose you."
“You didn't lose me.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I'm here. I'm whole.”
Something shifted in his expression—the anger bleeding into desire. Desperation. "I need you," he said roughly. "Need to feel you. Need to know you're really here, really alive, really mine."
“I'm yours.” I pulled him down for another kiss. “Show me.”
He groaned against my mouth, the sound vibrating through both of us.
"Three days," he murmured between kisses, hands already pulling at my shirt.
"Three days of watching you sleep and being terrified.
Three days of needing to touch you and not being able to.
Three days of thinking about how you left me—"
“I'm sorry.”
"I know." He pulled the shirt—his shirt—off in one smooth motion. "We'll talk more about it later. About not making decisions alone. About being partners in everything."
“Everything,” I agreed.
"But right now—" His gaze raked over me, hot and possessive. "Right now, I need you too much to be angry. Need to feel you too much to think about anything except this."
“Yes.” I reached for his pants, tugging them down. “I need you, too.”
He stripped them off, and then we were skin to skin. His hands moved over me with a desperation that had nothing to do with gentleness and everything to do with confirmation—alive, whole, his.
"Mine," he growled against my throat. "You're mine and you don't get to leave me like that again."
“Yours. Always yours.”
He kissed me hard, claiming, the full force of his emotions—the fury and fear and desperate relief—all channeling into raw need. I matched him, kiss for kiss, touch for touch. Showing him through action what I couldn't adequately express in words or signs—that I was here, I was whole, I was his.
The bond blazed between us, carrying sensation and emotion in equal measure. His hands explored without hesitation, touching and claiming and confirming. Every kiss was deeper than the last, every touch more desperate.
“I'm here. I'm alive. I'm yours.”
"Mine," he agreed roughly, moving against me. "And I'm yours. We belong to each other."
We moved together, finding our rhythm, and the bond between us blazed so bright it was almost blinding. Every touch carried the weight of what we'd almost lost. Every kiss was a confirmation that we'd survived.
The pleasure peaked between us, carried through our connection in waves that left us both shaking. For a moment, the bond was pure light—relief and love and the confirmation that we were both alive, both here, both whole.
Then slowly we came back to ourselves, still tangled together, still connected. Kieran gathered me close, pressed his face into my hair. His arms were tight around me, almost too tight. Overwhelming relief and residual fear and so much love it made my chest ache, filtered through our connection.
"Okay?" I sent tentatively.
He let out a shaky breath. "I will be. Now that you're awake. Now that I know you're really okay."
“I scared you.”
"Terrified me." He pulled back just enough to look at me, and his eyes were bright. "Don't do it again."
“I won't. Partners, remember?”
"Partners," he agreed. "In everything. Which means we make decisions together. Even the dangerous ones. Especially the dangerous ones."
“Especially those,” I promised.
He kissed me again, softer this time. Gentle. "Sleep now. Rest. You gave me a lot of blood, and you need to recover."
“Not tired.”
He raised an eyebrow. "Liar. I can feel your exhaustion."
He was right. The energy I'd given him through feeding, combined with everything else, was pulling me toward sleep.
“Fine. But you stay.”
"Until the day I die." His arms tightened around me. "I'm not letting you out of my sight for a while. You're stuck with me."
“Good.” I pressed closer, feeling his heartbeat under my ear. “That's exactly where I want to be.”
I closed my eyes, feeling his arms around me, his love surrounding me.
Safe. Loved. His. Home.
When I woke again, the light had shifted—afternoon rather than morning. I felt better. Clearer. The exhaustion from feeding him had lifted, leaving me rested and ready.
Kieran was awake, watching me with those icy-blue eyes.
"Hi." He smiled, soft and genuine. “How do you feel?”
“Good. Better.” I stretched, testing my body. Everything worked. The magical healing had done its job. “What did I miss?”
"Other than several near heart attacks on my part?" His tone was light, but the truth of it filtered through the bond. He'd been terrified. “My father officially cleared Elias of all charges yesterday. Reinstated him with full honors.”
“Thank the gods.” Relief crashed through me. “He deserves that.”
“He’ll need time to heal his mind after what Tobias put him through, but I know he’ll want to thank you for clearing his name.” Kieran’s expression shifted slightly. “But there are other things we need to talk about first. Decisions to make.”
Something in his face made me go still. Not bad news—I would have felt that through the bond—but serious. Important.
“What kind of decisions?”
"Yours." He sat up, helped me do the same, arranged pillows behind me so I was comfortable. “Completely yours. I'll support whatever you choose, but these have to be your choices.”
I studied him, as my fingers moved carefully. “You're being very careful about this.”
"Because you've had too many choices stolen from you. By Tobias. By circumstance." His hand found mine, squeezing gently. "By me. I won't take another one. Even if I think I know what's best. Even if I have opinions."
He meant every word.
“Okay. What do I need to choose?”
"First—your memories." His expression tightened with something between anger and understanding.
"Solis told me something while you were unconscious.
When he saved you twenty years ago, he didn't just heal your body.
He took your memories. The fire, your parents dying, Tobias cutting your throat—all of it. Suppressed completely."
I went very still. I’d always assumed my memory loss was trauma, or time, or just the way the brain worked when you were that young. Never thought someone had actively taken them.
"He wanted to give them back. Offered to restore them when you were ready." He paused. "But I don’t think he can. Not anymore."
The loss of them hit like a blow. “Why not?”
"You dared me to compel you when we first met, because you knew as a telepath, you couldn’t be compelled.
When he took your memories, you were dying.
Your mind was broken, vulnerable. He could reach in, suppress what was destroying you.
But now?" He touched my face gently. "Now you're strong.
Healthy. Your mind has its own defenses.
The memories are locked away so deep even he can't reach them.
Your own power protects you from reliving that trauma. "
Relief and disappointment tangled together in my chest as tears stung my nose.
“So I'll never remember them? My parents?”
"The deaths? No. But there's someone—your father's best friend.
A Fae scholar who knew your parents well.
He's been in hiding since their deaths, afraid Tobias would find him, too.
But Solis located him recently. He's willing to meet you.
To tell you about who they were. What they loved.
What they were like." His thumb brushed across my knuckles.
"You can know them without remembering how they died. "