Chapter Thirty-Four
Shaw Black
I kept one arm around Zola as I nudged the door shut with my heel, the soft click sealing us into the quiet of my chambers. She leaned into me heavily now, her movements slower, her lashes low over her cheeks.
“Easy,” I said, guiding her toward the bathing room. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
She mumbled something under her breath, likely an argument against this. I felt her sway again, and my grip tightened instinctively. I couldn’t help the low purr in my chest when she molded against me, knowing I was able to care for her.
I half-carried her carefully into the warm glow of the lanterns still lit around my bathing chamber. The scent of steam and soap lingered in the air from my bath, but her scent of rain and steel consumed me as I lowered my head and inhaled deeply against her neck.
“Careful, shifter,” she said.
I gave her a half-grin as I bent and effortlessly swung her into my arms. “Always am.”
I strode beside the basin and knelt to place her on the edge of the tub, reaching to turn the knob and refill the water. Taking my time, I helped her undress, my eyes never leaving hers. Her hair had come undone in wild curls I’d never seen free.
I didn’t dare speak, too stunned by her raw beauty, how vulnerable and open she appeared to be in this moment with me.
Zola moved into the tub, allowing the heat from the bath to soothe her.
Bubbles formed along the surface from an oil extract I added before draining some of the water to add more on top.
I dipped a cloth in warm water and gently swept it over her face, her neck, the line of her jaw, and along the tops of her shoulders.
She watched me with half-lidded eyes, still and open in a way Zola rarely ever was.
“You don’t have to fuss,” she whispered.
“I’m not fussing,” I replied softly, brushing another damp strand of ebony hair away from her cheek. “I’m taking care of you.”
Her breath hitched as she stared at me with a look of awe.
“When was the last time someone took care of you?” I dared to ask.
Her voice was faint, barely audible. “Never.”
When I finished washing her, I stood and crossed to my wardrobe, digging through until I found something comfortable for her to wear. I smiled as I found one of my shirts. It was oversized even on me, which meant it would swallow her whole.
Perfect.
I tugged it free and turned to find her watching me, with a towel wrapped around her middle.
“What’s that?” she asked, eyeing the shirt as if it might attack her.
“Clothes,” I said, unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips. “So you don’t have to sleep in fighting leathers.”
She snorted a laugh, an ungraceful, very un-Zola-like sound, and I took it as a victory.
“Come on,” I coaxed. “Arms up.”
To my surprise, she obliged my request. I slipped my shirt over her head, guiding her arms through the sleeves and smoothing the fabric down. The towel fell to the floor, and my scent wrapped around her, sinking into her skin, marking her.
My panther purred in delight as a surge of deep, primal satisfaction rolled through my chest.
Zola blinked down at herself, yanking at the oversized hem. “It’s huge.”
“It’s mine,” I said quietly.
Her eyes lifted, meeting mine, and a spark passed between us, the threads of our bond weaving together.
I swallowed hard. “Let’s get you to bed,” I said, voice rougher than I intended. “Before you fall asleep on the floor.”
She rolled her eyes, but when I offered my hand, she took it.
After dimming the lanterns in the room, I eased Zola beneath the blankets, guiding her down slowly so she didn’t get tangled in the sheets.
She made a soft sound—half sigh, half contented hum—as her head sank into the pillow.
I circled to the other side and slid into bed beside her, keeping a careful inch of space between us even as every instinct screamed to pull her close.
But the moment I settled, she turned toward me and closed the distance between us.
She shifted until she was facing me fully, with her cheek pressed into the pillow.
Her knees brushed mine beneath the covers.
The one remaining lantern caught the curve of her face and the faint flush still lingering on her cheeks.
“Shaw,” she murmured, voice quiet and blurred with exhaustion. “Are you… Are you naked?”
I chuckled. “Of course. It’s how I always sleep. Tonight is no exception.”
She scoffed. “Gods above, shifters.”
“Well, I did keep the towel on. So, I take it back. No, I’m not.”
She laughed, a sound so pure it damn near broke me.
I turned to look at her, and gods, it hurt. The sight of her wrapped in my shirt, in my bed, her breathing gentle and even as she blinked up at me. This was how I wanted to fall asleep for the rest of my days.
My hand lifted on its own as I brushed a loose strand of hair away from her forehead, fingers brushing her cheek. She leaned into my touch like it was an instinct, and the bond pulsed between us, warm and aching.
Looking up, her eyes searched mine. “Why…” she whispered, “why won’t you claim me tonight?”
The question landed like a blow to the ribs.
Because gods, I wanted to. My panther pushed, demanding I touch, kiss, and claim her. But I held the line—I had to.
I let my thumb graze her temple, tracing the curve there. “Zola.” I breathed her name like it was a prayer to the gods. “I want you. Gods, I want to claim you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”
Her brows drew together, confusion flickering. “Then why not now?”
I swallowed hard. My voice came out low, ragged, and honest. “Because I will claim you, my mate… when this war is over. When we have a future worthy of binding ourselves to.”
Her lips parted slightly, with her breath catching.
I kept going, brushing another strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to claim you because I fear there won’t be a tomorrow. I want to claim you, knowing there will be forever.”
She stared at me, and something softened in her expression. Her fingers crept beneath the blankets, brushing my forearm. “Forever,” she echoed, her voice barely audible.
I nodded, leaning close enough for the warmth of my breath to caress her skin, but not close enough for the kiss we both wanted.
“Forever,” I repeated. “I won’t bind us in the shadow of war. I’ll bind us in the light of victory.”
Her eyes fluttered, heavy and warm, her hand settling fully on my skin.
“You’re impossible,” she whispered.
“And you’ve had a few more drinks than normal tonight,” I said, unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips.
“Just a few.” She huffed a tired laugh and inched a bit closer, her forehead brushing against my chest. “In two days, we will be at war.”
I wrapped an arm around her carefully, slowly, letting her rest against me.
“The bath helped, though. My mind is clearer now.” Her breathing steadied as her body relaxed.
The bond hummed with contentment in my core. And as she drifted toward sleep, wrapped in my scent and my arms, I knew this was where she was always meant to be.
Zola shifted against me, the oversized shirt swallowing her petite frame, and took a shaky breath. “There’s… there’s something I haven’t told anyone,” she said, her voice barely above the hum of the lantern. “Not a soul. But I want to tell you.”
I cupped her face gently, thumb brushing over her cheek. “I’m listening. Every word,” I said softly, my panther vibrating through me with a surge of anticipation and protectiveness.
She swallowed hard, eyes wide. “I want to tell you how I earned these,” she said, with her fingers brushing over her markings.
I stilled, listening carefully.
“Before Minaeve stole our memories, Arabella… Daxton’s mother…
took me and two others to patrol the Crimson City borders.
There were rumors of shadow magic. Magic that was killing the land and threatening our people.
We ventured into the mountains, and on the third night…
that’s when we were no longer the hunters, and we became the hunted. ”
Her hand gripped my arm as she trembled slightly, recalling the memory. “The fallen attacked us. The poison… It took our two companions first, turning them into monsters of shadow and death.”
A rare tear traced down her cheek, and I brushed it away gently, holding her closer.
I whispered, “What happened next, little shadow? You don’t have to tell me if it’s too difficult.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I want to tell you.” Her voice faltered, yet she continued.
So brave, my mate was so brave.
“I–I was grabbed by a fallen, and the shadows began to swarm me. I was changing… becoming one of them. Until… Until Arabella saved me. Somehow, she reached out through my mind and created a way for me to fight through the shadows. She told me never to give up, to take their magic and use it against them. So I did.”
Her lips trembled, eyes wet, but she pushed on. “When I woke, I shadow-jumped for the first time. I killed the horde that attacked us, but not in time to save Arabella. She… she took her own life instead of turning into a fallen.”
Zola shivered as she spoke, her voice barely audible. I tightened my hold, letting the warmth of my body reassure her, letting her lean fully into me.
“I shadow-jumped back to Silver Meadows to deliver her body and bow to her husband, High Prince Khalon, Daxton and Castor’s father. And I swore, with my life, to look after her children for her.”
I pressed my forehead to hers, feeling the sturdy pulse of her heart against mine. “You carry her story with honor, Zola. You survived the impossible. That takes more strength than most could even imagine.”
She let out a shuddering breath, closing her eyes.
I murmured into the quiet room, “You don’t have to face it alone anymore. Not ever.”
Her body relaxed into mine as her cheek rested against my chest. My panther purred in contentment, curling around her in my mind, approving of the bond between us.
For the first time, I could sense her walls crumbling, opening up and letting me in, and I vowed silently, fiercely, to never let her go.
“I lived in a Satellite pack east of Solace with my mother and father as a youngling. It was quiet, peaceful. Too peaceful, I suppose.” I let out a long, slow breath. “Because all too soon, hunters came.”
Zola’s fingers stilled on my skin.
“I heard my mother first,” I whispered. “Her screaming, telling me to run.”
My chest ached, jagged and familiar, as if the old wound had reopened.
“I did run. But I was too slow. Too small. They caught me before I could get away.” My jaw clenched as I relived my darkest memory.
“I was gagged, hooded, and locked in irons before being thrown in a cage on the back of a wagon. I screamed for my parents, for anyone to help… But one of the hunters reached through my bars and hit me so hard across the face that I blacked out.”
Zola’s breath shivered out of her, and her hand moved instinctively to my heart.
“When I awoke, I didn’t know where I was.
The air smelled strange, and it was dark.
So dark I couldn’t see my own hand in front of my face.
And then… I heard my mother’s scream, followed by my father’s.
I vomited on the floor of my cell from hearing them, knowing they were both dead and no one was going to come and save me. ”
Zola’s expression steeled as she held my gaze.
“They tied me up and brought me to a room,” I continued quietly. “They wanted to see what would happen if a shifter was cut before coming of age. If wounds would heal. If we bled differently.”
Her eyes flashed with fury.
“They used blades,” I said. “Iron, steel, even gold.”
My fingers brushed the scar she was touching along my arms. “These are from those nights.”
She closed her eyes, fingers trembling slightly against me.
“I was just a child, and I couldn’t shift yet.
I hadn’t even sensed my animal. I was alone.
” I shuddered, fighting back my tears. “They were going to kill me by dawn. Would’ve displayed my body like a trophy.
But one of the human healers, just one, grew a conscience.
Or maybe she pitied me. Either way, she cut my binds loose while the others slept and told me to run and never look back. ”
Zola’s eyes finally lifted to mine, and what I saw there nearly undid me.
Not horror.
Not pity.
But understanding. And something deeper—a fierce, protective emotion that neither of us was ready to name.
“I ran,” I said softly. “I ran until my feet bled and I could no longer feel my limbs. I didn’t stop running until I recognized Solace borders.”
Her hand rose to my cheek, cupping it gently. “Shaw,” she whispered, voice breaking.
“Alistar found me… But my parents? My parents were gone.”
Zola shifted closer until her forehead pressed to mine. “You survived,” she said. “You endured what no child or being should have experienced.” Her voice trembled like she was hurting with me, for me. “And you grew into someone who protects everyone else from ever facing what you did.”
I let out a shaky breath.
Her thumb brushed along my jaw. “I see all of you now,” she whispered. “And I don’t think any less of you. Gods, Shaw… I think more.”
The bond pulsed between us, gentle and fierce all at once. For the first time, letting someone touch my scars and see the truth of them didn’t feel like weakness.
It felt like healing.
“Zola…” My voice cracked.
She shook her head, eyes shining with something fierce and tender. “You don’t have to say anything.”
But I wanted to. I wanted to say everything. Instead, I leaned in, my lips brushing hers. It was feather-soft and full of something we didn’t yet dare voice.
She answered with a sigh against my lips.
When we parted, she rested her forehead against mine again. “Good night, Shaw,” she whispered, as if the words themselves were an embrace.
I felt her lips against my throat a moment later as she pressed a trail of tiny kisses along the side of my neck, light, warm, and impossibly gentle.
Zola curled into me, fitting against my chest as if she’d always belonged there.
My arms wrapped around her without thought, holding her close as her breath settled into a slow, even rhythm.
And for the first time in years, sleep found me easily with my mate wrapped in my arms.