Seven
The thing about life-altering revelations is that eventually you run out of immediate reactions.
At some point, the panic exhausts itself. The disbelief gets tired. Even existential crises need a tea break. Unfortunately, that leaves me alone with my thoughts.
And my thoughts are proving remarkably unhelpful.
The valley stretches endlessly below us, painted in shades of silver-blue and green that still don’t look entirely real.
A breeze drifts across the mountainside, carrying the scent of cold stone and snow, while somewhere behind us the waterfall continues its steady rush towards the plains below. It’s beautiful. Peaceful, even.
Which would be far more useful if my entire attention wasn’t currently focused on the male sitting beside me.
The knowledge that we’ve completed three bonds should probably concern me more than it does. Instead, my brain seems determined to replay the conversation from every possible angle.
Beside me, Maelor remains silent, though I’ve long since learned silence doesn’t mean absence.
If anything, he’s more present when he’s quiet.
His attention lingers on me with the same steady certainty it’s carried since we met, and while that level of focus should probably make me uncomfortable, it doesn’t.
Quite the opposite, actually, which is perhaps its own problem.
“You know,” I say eventually, twisting a loose blade of silver-blue grass between my fingers, “if somebody had told me two days ago that I’d end up sitting on a mountain having a soulmate conversation with a shadow monster, I would’ve recommended immediate psychiatric intervention.”
The corner of Maelor’s mouth shifts.
Encouraged, I continue. “I would’ve been very concerned.”
The faint amusement in his expression deepens. The arsehole. The discovery that he can tease people remains one of the more shocking developments of the week.
“Yet here you are.”
His voice rolls through me like warm gravel. I hate how much I like that.
“Yet here I am,” I agree. The words leave my mouth easily enough, but once they’re spoken, neither of us looks away.
Something shifts.
Not the bond.
Not magic.
Something simpler.
The weight of truth.
Because for all my jokes and deflections, neither of us is pretending anymore.
I could leave… eventually. The possibility exists. The knowledge should make me feel trapped. Instead, I find myself wondering how far away from him I’d have to be before this valley stopped feeling like home.
The thought arrives unexpectedly.
I stare at the landscape before me. Then immediately decide I don’t like it. Mostly because it feels suspiciously important.
Maelor studies me quietly. “You are thinking.”
I laugh. “That sounded dangerously close to an accusation.”
His gaze softens. The change is tiny, almost imperceptible. Somehow it hits me harder than anything else. “I enjoy when you think.”
The confession catches me completely off guard. Not because of the words themselves, but because of the sincerity behind them.
No teasing.
No humour.
Just honesty.
For a moment, I can only stare. Then something inside me melts.
Because nobody has ever said that before.
People have appreciated my work. They’ve appreciated my skills. They’ve appreciated my ability to solve problems, but nobody has ever looked at me as though simply existing exactly as I am is enough.
The sudden lump in my throat catches me by surprise. I clear it quickly. “Careful.”
His brow furrows. “Why?”
I smile despite myself. “You’re becoming alarmingly charming.”
The confusion that follows is immediate, genuine, and quite frankly, absolutely adorable.
The poor male has no idea he’s charming. No idea he’s attractive. No idea that every soft look, every careful touch, every promise kept is slowly dismantling my ability to think rationally.
The awareness sends warmth spiralling through me.
For several moments, neither of us speaks. The silence feels comfortable now, settled around us like something familiar. Eventually, I shift slightly, angling myself towards him, and the movement draws his full attention.
Immediately.
Every time.
As though some part of him remains quietly astonished that I’m actually here. The thought makes my chest ache.
Before I can stop myself, I reach for his hand. His fingers close around mine without hesitation, without question. The contact feels natural, which is seriously a thought that should scare me, but it doesn’t.
Instead, all I can think about is the male sitting beside me and the impossible certainty growing steadily between us.
Not because fate says we belong together or even because a bond exists. It’s absolutely because somewhere along the way, I’ve fallen for him. And judging by the way he’s looking at me now, I’m fairly certain he’s fallen right back.
For a long while, neither of us speaks. My fingers remain tangled with Maelor’s, our joined hands resting between us on the stone. The simple contact has become so familiar so quickly that I barely notice it anymore. What I do notice is the absence whenever he isn’t touching me.
That probably isn’t healthy. Then again, neither is falling through a dimensional rift. At this point, I’m choosing my battles.
A low rumble vibrates through his chest.
I narrow my eyes. “Was that amusement?”
His expression remains entirely innocent.
The lying liar who lies.
Happiness blooms inside me. The realisation catches me off guard because I can’t remember the last time I simply enjoyed someone’s company without an agenda attached to it. No patients to treat. No problems to solve. No responsibility resting on my shoulders.
Just this.
A mountain.
A monster.
And an increasingly ridiculous desire to keep sitting here forever.
My gaze drifts towards the valley before returning to him. Maelor is already watching me. Of course he is. The male has looked at me more in two days than most people have in years.
Not stared at.
Seen.
The distinction matters.
“Do Hendroy ever stop looking at people like that?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
His brow furrows slightly. “Like what?”
“Like they’re trying to memorise every blink.”
For a moment, he simply studies me. Then, with complete sincerity, he says, “No.”
My stomach promptly forgets how to function. Wonderful… the bastard doesn’t even realise when he’s being devastating. I look away before he can witness the full extent of my embarrassment.
Unfortunately, that only makes me aware of other things. The warmth radiating from his body. The size of him beside me. The way his shoulder brushes mine whenever the wind shifts.
Awareness creeps through me slowly, wrapping itself around every thought until concentrating on anything else becomes increasingly difficult.
Apparently, my body has reached a conclusion several chapters before my brain.
Typical.
Beside me, Maelor grows unusually quiet. When I glance back towards him, his attention is fixed firmly on the horizon.
Not me.
The horizon.
Which honestly is suspicious as fuck, all things considered.
My eyes narrow. “Maelor.”
His jaw tightens.
“Maelor.”
Slowly, he looks at me. The expression on his face nearly steals the breath from my lungs.
Not because it’s hungry. Not because it’s possessive. But because he’s trying so hard to be careful.
The sight hits me harder than it should.
This male could tear apart mountains if he wanted. Yet somehow he’s more concerned about frightening me than anything else.
My chest tightens. “You’re thinking too much.” The words emerge softly.
A faint crease appears between his brows. The poor male doesn’t even attempt to deny it.
I smile. Then, before I can lose my nerve, I shift closer and lift a hand to his face.
The movement instantly captures his full attention. His breathing changes, and for a moment, neither of us moves.
The wind continues whispering through the valley below. The waterfall rushes somewhere behind us. The world carries on exactly as it should.
Yet everything feels suspended.
Waiting.
My thumb brushes lightly across his jaw.
The rough scrape of stubble-like texture beneath my fingertips sends awareness skittering through me.
Anticipation.
The kind that settles low in my stomach and refuses to leave.
“Hi,” I say quietly.
The corner of his mouth lifts.
Tiny.
Real.
“Hello, Iris.”
The way he says my name should be illegal. I make a mental note to complain about it later. Then I lean forward.
For a heartbeat, I think he might stop me. Not because he doesn’t want this but because he wants it too much.
The possibility flashes through his eyes, visible in the tension that tightens his jaw and the way every muscle in his body seems to lock into place. The male who can cross worlds through shadows suddenly looks uncertain.
The sight does something dangerous to my heart. “Maelor.” His name leaves my lips softly.
A question.
A promise.
An invitation.
His gaze searches mine one last time, as though looking for hesitation. Doubt. Fear. Whatever he finds there finally eases something inside him. Slowly, impossibly gently for a creature of his size, he lifts a hand and cups my face.
The gentle touch steals my breath. The enormous hand that could probably crush stone settles against my cheek with almost painful care. His thumb brushes lightly across my skin, and the tenderness in the gesture nearly undoes me.
For all his power, he’s still afraid of hurting me. The realisation squeezes painfully at my chest.
I lean into his touch. The breath that leaves him sounds suspiciously like relief.
Then, I move to my knees and our mouths meet.
The kiss begins softly, tentatively. Neither of us wanting to break the moment.
His lips are warm against mine. Firmer than a human’s. Different. Entirely unfamiliar and yet somehow exactly right. The connection between us hums immediately, swelling beneath my ribs until I can feel it in every heartbeat.
For a few precious seconds, the rest of the world disappears.
The mountains.
The valley.
The impossible green sky.
All of it fades away.
Leaving only this.
Only him.