Chapter 9 #2
She narrowed her eyes. “See, that’s another thing.
You say you’re not in my head, but you read me like I’m shouting my thoughts out loud.
Are you lying? Because something in me says you’re not, but.
.. trust isn’t my better trait.” She exhaled, long and heavy.
“There’s this part of me, and it’s getting louder, more insistent by the minute.
It’s screaming at me that I’m safe with you.
That it’s okay to give you what’s left of my heart.
” She rubbed the heel of her hand over her chest, as if trying to soothe a bruise.
“It scares me. Because if I give it to you and you break it, then what?”
He went still. Like a warm statue carved from everything he felt. “You know, I’m not the only one who can read someone’s feelings.”
“I guess Dorian can too?” she muttered. “Magiks are always screwing around in people’s minds.”
He chuckled, but didn’t move closer and didn’t break the mood. “Not all magiks, and that’s not what I meant. You can read feelings. With me.”
“I’m not magick.”
“Alright. Close your eyes.”
She rolled her eyes, but did it. “Now what?”
“Feel me.”
“I told you, Hunter. I have no magic whatsoever.”
Frustration laced his voice. “Would you stop thinking and just feel for one damn second, Daphne?”
“Okay, okay, Jesus.” She exhaled hard through her nose. “How am I supposed to not think?”
“Think about me. About what you feel when you’re with me.”
“That’s still thinking, though.”
He didn’t answer, and when she cracked an eye open, he was looking at her, motionless and furious. “When this is done and you get what’s happening,” he said evenly, “I will I-told-you-so your ass into next Christmas. Think about me,” he over-spelled. “What you feel. Let that lead you.”
She tried, because he’d never looked at her with that longing before, and it tugged at something deep.
She let herself lean into the memories. His hand brushing hers.
The way his voice dipped low when he was being sincere.
The ridiculous way her body hummed when he got close.
The ease, the rightness of being near him.
And something flickered. Stirred. She couldn’t name it, but it felt like going back home. And its brightness, its fullness, its beauty, stole her breath.
“Feel that?” he asked.
“Yes, but... how do you know?”
“Because that’s me, sweetheart.”
She went back to it, let herself fall into that thread of emotion. It was joy, and strength, and God, it was love. Radiant and stupidly honest and all for her. “What is happening, Hunter?” she breathed, nearly choking on the rightness of it.
“It’s the bond.”
Her eyes flew open. “The what?” And she would’ve kept asking, but... his face. That smile. Like he’d just seen heaven walk into the room.
“I’m your fated mate,” he said, voice gentle and sure. “If you’ll have me.”
And that was when everything went black.
~*~
Daphne opened her eyes to Hunter’s face, a mix of irony and worry. “Welcome back, sweetheart.”
She sat up slowly, realizing he’d taken her onto his lap, but stayed within his arms. “What happened?”
He gave her a lopsided grin that couldn’t quite mask the tension still buzzing beneath his skin.
But he pushed a strand of hair away from her face, and her attention was back to him.
“Long story short? You passed out right after I told you we’re fated.
Out cold. Which, okay, wasn’t the grand romantic reaction I was aiming for, but I’ll take overwhelming surprise over running shoes any day. ”
“What? Running? How could I... run?”
He shrugged, casual on the outside, but she didn’t buy it.
Not now that she felt the faint, echoing hum of him, like a space their souls shared where nothing could be hidden.
And he was scared, even as he shrugged again.
“You lock yourself up and swallow the key,” he said easily.
“You can accept this thing. Or not. Your choice. But if you’re in, really in, then there’s no going back. ”
She thought about it. About walking away, shutting the door, returning to the safe, sane life she’d been clawing together.
One without him. And just the idea of it left a hollowness inside her so vast it swallowed the air and crushed her.
Not just her heart. Her soul. She could never.
Actually, she could, but she didn’t want to.
Because he was right for her. And safe. And hers. And there wasn’t going to be a version of her again without him in it. Ever.
So she closed her eyes, reached inward to find that delicate thread, still trembling, still barely there, and let it drift toward her like a butterfly across a blue sky.
And then she accepted him in like the breath her soul had been holding forever.
And by God, he flooded her.
His thoughts, his fears, the aching shadows of his loneliness. His brilliant, wild, and terrifyingly gentle love. It was so real it made her heart ache, so true it felt like it had always been there, just waiting for her to open the door.
She gave herself to it, to him, wondering how she’d ever survived without this. And for once, she thanked every awful thing that had happened to her, every scar and every tear, for leading her to this moment. To him.
I love you.
His voice drifted in her, clear as if he’d spoken out loud.
She opened her eyes, tilting her head to adjust to that extra channel. I love you, his voice said again. But his lips hadn’t moved. “I’m hearing you,” she said.
You are.
“But you’re not talking.”
I’m in you, sweetheart, and you’re in me. One soul in two bodies. We don’t need anything else.
So many things she could say, ask. Wrestle and negotiate a reality that seemed so far-fetched for her, no matter how magic was part of everyone’s life. In the end, in her heart, there was only one thing. “I’m yours.”
He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. And I’m yours.
Slowly, tentatively, she made way into his waiting arms and snuggled into him, sighing in peace when he surrounded her. She closed her eyes. There. Home. I think I love you, she said through the bond, regardless of this thing.
His answer came through with all of his swagger. I know you do.
Ass. But she chuckled.
Sure. But I’m your ass now.
The slow swipe of his hand on her back relaxed her, and the strong beat of his heart lulled her into deep relaxation.
She could, literally, stay like this forever.
“I think I’ll have to talk to Amelia at some point.
” She raised her head to look at him. “She and Dorian are mates. They were talking into each other’s minds, right? ”
“They are, and they were, yes.”
She rested her head on him again. “Okay.”
The whole day crashed down at once, starting with the chaos in the library, followed by Dorian’s grim arrival, the blackout episode, and then the mind-bending reveal that she was someone’s fated mate.
It was exhilarating. It was terrifying. And it was so, so much.
Take a nap, sweetheart. You earned it.
It was so soothing, having him inside of her so deeply. “You can never lie to me again,” she mumbled.
“Are we back at that?” His voice was frustrated to say the least, but his touch remained the gentlest. “I have never straight-up lied to you, Daphne.”
“Never tweak truth, then.”
There was a pause that made her smile, because she felt it through the bond how he was trying to spin that, but then he capitulated. “Yeah, okay. That’s accurate. And you can’t hide your feelings, your fears and fragility, anymore.”
“Only with you.”
“Only with me.”
“I’m okay with that.”
She let herself slip into slumber, Hunter’s scent and warmth wrapped around her like a lullaby made of skin and breath. The beat of his heart, strong and steady beneath her cheek, faded into the distance as sleep took her.
And then, she wasn’t in her house anymore.
She was nowhere. Everywhere. It was dark. Not the way night was. This darkness was obscene and alive and heavy. Fog slithered close to the black, bare ground.
Trees. It was full of trees. Tall and silvered, their bark so slick, shadows shifted behind the surface, like mirrors filled with smoke.
She moved closer to one, but her image was not what reflected back to her.
Or, not exactly.
No.
Her shallow breathing was the only sound; the pounding of her heart almost hurt. She stumbled to a different tree, then to another, then another.
No.
In every warped mirror of bark and smoke was a version of her she’d lived, a ghost she’d been to survive.
A little girl with scraped knees and tear-streaked cheeks, curled beneath a bed, ordering herself don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry into her palms.
A child, gripping a doorknob to keep it closed.
A teenager, smiling too widely for someone who didn’t want to be seen.
A young woman in a party dress and hollow eyes, laughing on cue.
The one who said I’m fine like a prayer, like a dare, like a lie that would become true if repeated enough.
They stood behind the glass. They watched her, eyes wide with pain she would never claim, could never accept.
She spun around, and around, until her head was light, powerless against all those accusing eyes.
“What the fuck is this?” she asked through clenched teeth.
No one answered, but the reflections moved. Twitched. Sneered, full of hate and judgment.
One figure stepped out from a mirror. Pale, thin, scared. She pointed a trembling finger at her. “You.”
Daphne tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry. “What? What about me?”
“I,” the younger her said, “am you. The one you buried but can’t kill.”
Daphne straightened her spine, shoved away the rising panic thundering through her pulse like drums in a war she had to win. “I’m not scared. I will never be scared again.”
The broken self laughed, an ugly and choked sound that crawled under her skin. “But you were. You are. You never got rid of us; you only keep us out of sight. Shadows behind your eyes. Always there, never acknowledged.”