Never Letting You Go
WREN
Gabriel’s scars bear witness to the horrors he’s experienced, and they were inflicted upon him by his father.
His fucking father.
Even though I was raised knowing I would be Given to the gods in my twentieth year, I always knew that parents are supposed to love their children. For the suns’ sakes, that’s how we are designed—to love our offspring, care for them, and keep them away from the dangers of the world.
But as I’ve learned over the past few months, not all of us get to live easy, happy lives. Some people get sacrificed because they bear the gods’ blessings. Others get hunted. And some, apparently, have parents who use them as whipping posts.
My vision is blurry, and it seems I’m crying again, but I can’t find it inside myself to care. Gabriel’s father is the gods-damned king, and he did this to his own son.
Those damned rage-filled crimson eyes flash through my mind, and I shudder. I hadn’t been in the king’s presence for long, but I will never forget the way he made me feel. Like there was a wrongness in his manner that leaked into the air around him.
And I was in Rose Palace for a single night, unlike Gabriel, who grew up there. I can’t imagine being near the king for days, let alone years.
No wonder he was so comfortable in the tunnels beneath the palace. Of course he knew where to go. He grew up there.
I should be terrified that the king’s son is here, with me.
And maybe there is a piece of me that is scared, but overwhelmingly, I just feel so awful for Gabriel.
Hearing what he had to go through and seeing the evidence of how he was treated makes the distance my family was forced to keep from me when I turned twelve seem like nothing.
At least my family didn’t hurt me. At least they loved me, as best they could.
But Gabriel didn’t have that. It’s clear his childhood was void of love, and that . . . that has my heart breaking for this man who once hunted me.
I have no idea how much time passes before I sniffle and dry my eyes. I get up and grab a washcloth from the bathing room before retaking my spot.
“Gabe?” I whisper.
He lifts his head, sorrowful eyes meeting mine. His hand still sits between us, the trail of blood drying now, reminding me of the oath he swore.
“Yes, Wren?”
“I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
The words don’t feel like enough. Growing up, my mother always said that saying sorry was the first step to making things right. But what good are apologies here? How can such a small word ever repair the wounds that have been created over years?
“It’s not your fault,” he says roughly. “None of this is.”
“Still.” Taking his wounded hand, I wipe away the blood before I curl my fingers around his. “You never should have been forced to endure that.”
No one should be abused, certainly not a child, and especially not by their tyrannical father.
“Thank you, Wren,” he says softly.
A beat of silence passes between us. It can’t last for more than a few seconds, and yet it feels like a lifetime.
I cling to his fingers and lick my lips. “This complicates things, Gabriel.”
He shudders. “I thought it might.”
“You have to understand, I wasn’t expecting this.”
I have a vivid imagination, but even in my wildest dreams—or more accurately, my worst nightmares—did I ever think this would happen. How could I have predicted the man I shared a fated bond with also happens to be the son of the king trying to sacrifice me and steal my magic?
The fates, if they do exist, have a sick, twisted sense of humor.
Gabriel’s eyes shutter, but not before I catch the pain that flashes through them. He nods slowly as if he’s coming to terms with something.
“I understand. It’s too much.” He rakes his other hand through his hair. “I didn’t want to hide this from you—you deserve to know the truth.”
I whisper his name, and he starts pulling his hand out of mine.
“I’ll talk to Alaric if you want to stay here, and I’ll make sure they keep you safe.
Or, if you want to leave, I’ll arrange for your sisters to meet you at the port.
Once you’re on a ship, I’ll disappear. Unless you want me to go right away? If so—”
“Gabe,” I say more loudly, and he stops and looks at me. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
A crease forms between his brows. “You said you weren’t expecting this. That it’s complicated. And I understand that, I do. So I thought it would be best . . .”
His voice trails off, and he studies me.
“You’re going to leave me?” The words are bitter at the back of my mouth, but I force them out. “But last night, you said . . . I thought . . .”
I thought I was yours.
I thought he wanted me. I thought he’d stay by my side no matter what. That even though everyone else left, even though I’m dangerous and people die around me, even though I’m Marked and the king wants to kill me, Gabriel would be here with me.
I thought I’d no longer be alone.
This time, I’m the one who releases his hand. I draw my legs to my chest, ignoring the fact that all I’m wearing is Gabe’s shirt, and press my forehead to my knees. I squeeze my eyes shut, blocking out the world as I try to prepare for what’s coming next.
Being on my own. Again.
How many more times will this happen to me? Perhaps loneliness is my destiny and I have been fooling myself to think otherwise.
My eyes burn, and I desperately try to hold the tears back.
I don’t want to cry right now. If Gabriel wants to leave me, I will be strong and hold myself together.
I won’t stop him, even knowing that nothing will ever ease the ache in my heart after this.
There is no one who will ever make me feel the same way.
Even his offer to have my sisters meet me isn’t going to be enough, because even though I love them, they’re not him.
They never will be.
I’m not sure how much time passes before a hand touches my knee.
Gabriel moves slowly as if I’m a piece of porcelain and I might break if he touches me wrong.
His fingers skate over my cheeks—still dry since I’ve managed not to burst into tears again—then my chin.
His touch is soft as he draws my head up.
His eyes contain vast forests as they peer into mine.
“Do you still want me, Wren?” The question is a hoarse whisper, as if he can barely stand asking it. “Even now that you know who my father is?”
That’s the question, isn’t it?
It surprises me, how quickly I say, “I’m not exactly pleased, knowing the man trying to kill me is related to you, but yes, I want you.” There isn’t a doubt in my mind. “Of course I want you. Besides, you are not your father.”
He blinks slowly as if he wasn’t expecting to hear me say that. I gather his hand in mine and cross my legs.
“I know you, Gabriel.” Clutching his fingers, I press his palm flat against my chest. “My heart beats for you.”
I suspect it always will.
I’m dancing around those three words I feel deep inside—this isn’t the right time for them. Not now, when he’s revealed such a heavy truth about his family.
But soon.
“I don’t deserve you, Wren,” he says hoarsely.
How can he think that?
“Yes, you do. You may share the king’s blood, but you are not like him. He is cruel and heartless, and to be honest, I think he might be insane.”
The Hunter lets out a surprised laugh. “All of those are true. Especially the last one.”
“I’m not shocked,” I say dryly, remembering those crimson sparks and the way he raged when Kadyn died. “You are different from him, Gabriel. You would never hurt someone the way he hurt you because you have morals. That’s why you gave me the head start, right?”
He nods.
“See? Your father would never have done such a thing.” I kiss his cheek, his stubble rough beneath my lips. “Kindness exists within you, Gabriel Moreau. You are loyal and strong and courageous. Just look at where we are. You brought me here even knowing what they might do to you.”
“Your safety is my priority, Birdie. It has been for a very long time.”
Warmth suffuses my chest. “And that’s why I want you to stay.” That’s why I love him. I arch a brow. “You’re not hiding anything else, right? I’m not going to find out in a fortnight that the head priestess is your sister?”
He snorts. “Fuck, no. I have no sisters, that I’m aware of.”
“Thank the gods. I have two, as you know, and I’m fairly certain that’s enough. You can share mine.” My smile is teasing. “Fair warning, though. The twins can be a handful sometimes.”
“What?” He gasps in mock shock, and the air between us feels lighter than before. “One of your relatives is a handful?”
“Stop it.” I hit his arm playfully. “You know what I mean.”
“I do.” The corners of his mouth twitch before dropping. His eyes turn serious. “Then, you’re sure? You still want me now that you know everything?”
“Do you still want me, even knowing that your father wants me dead?” I counter.
He looks shocked that I’d even ask. “Of course.”
“I feel the same way, Gabriel. Let’s put this to bed, please. I want you, and the fact that your father is a gods-damned monster isn’t going to change that.”
Then, before he can say anything else, I fuse our lips together.
This kiss isn’t like the ones we shared yesterday. There is a slow desperation to it, as though we’re both seeking reassurance that the other is there. It’s paired with a palpable sense of relief that didn’t exist before, as if we’ve fought a battle and emerged victorious on the other side.
And maybe, in a way, we have. Not a physical one, but emotionally.
Gabriel’s mouth moves against mine, and he takes control of the kiss. He slides his hand behind my head, tugging me onto his lap. He is hard beneath me, and my fingers splay on his naked chest.
Our kisses may be languid, but they are filled with the weight of everything that has passed between us this morning . . . and with those three words, still left unsaid. The kisses are deep and unhurried . . . until suddenly, they’re not.
I’m not sure which one of us moves first, but our hands shift lower. Gabriel raises my shirt and cups my breasts. I brush my fingers down his chest and groan into his mouth, grinding on his erection.
I slide my fingers into his pants, teasing the tip of his cock. Gabriel lifts his hips, shifting to the edge of the bed and planting his feet on the floor. Together, we work to pull down his trousers, and I free his length, taking him in my hand and slowly pumping him.
He moans, and I swallow the sound. Gods, this man. I cannot get enough of him.
Neither of us speaks as I straddle him, kneeling on the bed and positioning him at my entrance. He lets my shirt fall, gripping my hips as I slowly lower myself onto him. A low whimper slips from my lips as he stretches me.
He says, “If it hurts—”
“Don’t you dare suggest we stop,” I murmur, holding on to his shoulders and breathing through my nose as I adjust. “I want you, Gabriel.”
“Fuck, Birdie. I want you, too.”
A wave of heat rushes to my core, and I groan, taking more of him. “Last night, you said I was yours. Show me what that means.”
A low, possessive growl rumbles through him, and then he does exactly that. He takes me slowly. Deeply. His movements are powerful and controlled, and it isn’t long before I’m close to breaking.
He holds me, murmuring my name, until I finally shatter. He follows moments later, filling me, and our foreheads meet. Our bodies remain together, as close as two people can be, and we share the same air. There is nothing but us, and it is good.
“I’m never letting you go, Wren,” he whispers.
“You better not.” Not now, not ever.
He brushes his nose against mine. “You have my word.”
And then he seals the promise with a kiss that I feel in the depths of my soul.