Six #2
The words settle between us. We stare at each other, my eyes so wide, I’m sure I look unhinged. Then I groan and tip my head towards the sky. “Right. Of course it was.”
A low rumble vibrates through his chest.
Amusement.
Definitely amusement.
I should probably be offended. Instead, I find myself smiling.
The bond. The mate thing. The impossible certainty he carries around like it’s a perfectly normal part of life.
Somewhere between falling through a dimensional rift and accidentally adopting a terrifying shadow monster, I’ve become alarmingly accepting of things that should absolutely require more questioning.
Unfortunately, curiosity eventually wins. “Explain it properly.”
His attention sharpens. “The bond?”
“Yes, the bond. All of it. Because currently my understanding consists of magical soulmate nonsense and vibes.”
The rumble deepens. Honestly, I’m beginning to suspect he enjoys my confusion.
Maelor remains silent for several moments, clearly considering how best to explain something that has probably been part of his world for longer than entire human civilisations have existed. “When mates are found, the bond begins.”
I wait. He waits. The silence stretches.
“Please tell me there’s more.”
The corner of his mouth twitches again. “Yes.”
“Thank God.”
That earns me another look, one that feels suspiciously fond.
“The bond grows through connection. Trust. Choice.”
The final word catches my attention immediately.
Choice.
Not destiny.
Not fate.
Choice.
The distinction matters far more than I expect.
Perhaps Maelor notices because something softens in his expression. “The bond cannot be forced.”
The simple statement loosens something inside me that I hadn’t realised was tight. Not because I’d genuinely believed Maelor would force anything. Every action he’d taken since finding me suggested the opposite. Still, hearing the words matters.
It means I still have a choice. Somehow, that makes everything else easier to hear.
“We have completed three bonds.”
I glance towards him. “But how did the third happen?”
The certainty in his expression suggests this should be obvious. Honestly, I’m beginning to suspect he thinks most things are obvious.
“The first formed when you saved me,” he reminds me.
The memory arrives immediately. The creature. The falling tree. My complete inability to mind my own business when someone’s life is in danger.
I still don’t know what possessed me.
Maelor, apparently.
“The second formed when you took my blood.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks before I can stop it. The memory of the overwhelming rush that followed remains embarrassingly vivid. More vivid, unfortunately, than several years of medical training.
I decide not to think about it… for the sake of my remaining dignity.
“And the third?”
For the first time since the conversation began, Maelor hesitates. The pause catches my attention immediately.
His gaze settles on me, steady and unwavering, yet something deeper moves beneath the certainty. Vulnerability. Hope. Emotions I’d rarely seen from him.
“The third bond forms through acceptance.”
The answer isn’t what I’d expected. I frown. “Acceptance?”
He nods. “When a mate accepts the bond. Accepts the one they are bound to.”
The words settle between us.
Slowly.
Heavily.
For a moment, I don’t know what to say. Because suddenly we’re no longer talking about magical blood or dimensional lightning. We’re talking about choice, about people, about him.
“I’ve known you for a day.” The protest sounds weak even to my own ears, probably because it doesn’t feel like the whole truth.
Maelor remains silent for several heartbeats before speaking. “You know what I am.”
The statement isn’t defensive. If anything, it sounds resigned.
As though he’s spent a very long time watching people decide what he is before they ever learned who he might be. The thought hurts.
“You know I am Hendroy.” His gaze never leaves mine. “You know others fear me.”
I think about the stories he’s already told me. The isolation. The years spent alone. The way others attacked him before giving him a chance to speak.
My chest tightens.
“You know what I can do.”
The shadows at his feet stir gently, responding to his emotions.
“I know.” The answer emerges quietly. Because I do. I’ve seen him disappear into darkness. I’ve seen him tear apart a creature that would have killed me without hesitation. I’ve seen power that should terrify me.
Yet none of those things are what I think about when I look at him.
I think about breakfast. About him sitting beside a bed all night because he’d promised he would. About the relief on his face when I liked the strange purple bread. And about the way he’d stayed and fought because somewhere nearby, a woman he’d never met might need him.
The realisation lands all at once, like a puzzle piece finally clicking into place.
“Holy fuck.” The words escape before I can stop them.
Maelor watches me carefully. He doesn’t push or demand. He appears to simply wait while I catch up. Meanwhile, the bond hums softly beneath my ribs.
Warm.
Patient.
Hopeful.
And suddenly I understand why this bond matters more than the others.
The first had been instinct.
The second had been magic.
This one belongs entirely to me.
“I don’t fear you.” The confession leaves my mouth before I can talk myself out of it.
Something flashes across his face. It’s raw enough to steal my breath.
Relief.
Not the small relief I’d seen before, something deeper… older. The sort of relief carried by someone who’d spent far too long expecting rejection.
My chest aches because nobody should look that grateful simply because someone isn’t afraid of them.
“I know you’re Hendroy.” My voice softens. “I know you’re powerful. I know you can step through shadows and do things that make absolutely no medical sense whatsoever.”
The corner of his mouth twitches.
Encouraged, I continue. “I also know you’re the male who took care of me, sat beside me while I slept, and worried whether I’d enjoy breakfast.”
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The valley stretches endlessly below us while the wind stirs through the silver-blue grass.
Then I smile. It’s small but so very certain. “I think the lightning got it right.”
The words hang between us, but the effect is immediate.
Warmth floods through the bond, surging so suddenly that my breath catches. The connection beneath my ribs settles into something stronger. Deeper. As though another piece of it has finally locked into place.
Beside me, Maelor closes his eyes briefly. It’s 100 percent relief. The sight nearly undoes me.
When his eyes open again, something in them has changed. Not certainty—he’s always had that—but peace.
And somehow that’s infinitely more dangerous. Because for the first time since meeting him, I realise that somewhere along the way, I haven’t simply accepted the bond. I’ve accepted him.
The terrifying shadow-travelling Hendroy who lives in a mountain, talks to his shadows, and apparently spent years waiting for a mate he wasn’t entirely convinced existed.
The male who makes me breakfast, holds my hand while I sleep, and looks at me like I’m something precious.
The realisation should probably send me into an existential crisis. Instead, my traitorous body immediately skips several emotional steps and lands on a far more pressing concern.
The fourth bond.
Right… that fourth bond.
Heat creeps up my neck. Then lower. Much lower.
My vagina, apparently delighted by this development, seems fully prepared to charge ahead with absolutely no regard for consequences, logistics, or common sense.
Unfortunately, the rest of me has questions.
Important questions.
Questions like: If a male is over seven feet tall, built like a fantasy author’s most self-indulgent daydream, and capable of carrying me around as though I weigh nothing, is he proportionate everywhere else?
Because that feels like information I should probably have before making any life-altering decisions.
A small bubble of concern forms. My body immediately ignores it.
Honestly, the lack of teamwork is becoming a problem.