Chapter 39
Nothing Left of Me
DELILAH
“Delilah!!!!!!” a booming male voice echoed down the hall as I ran as fast as my feet could carry me to the infirmary on the lower level.
The infirmary door scuffed the wall behind it after I burst through into his room.
A white-haired, older Fire Fae male hovered over the High Lord, trying—and failing—to control his outbursts.
He looked confused, panicked, and irritated all at once, bobbing and swerving around Titus’s flailing limbs.
“Lord Titus, if you don’t calm yourself, I’ll have to sedate you,” the high healer warned.
“No! Don’t—it’s ok, he’s looking for me, I’m his—” I started.
“Pickles?” Hearing my voice, he breathed the word like it was the only thing anchoring him.
His outburst subsided immediately upon taking in my presence, as if his body finally believed I was real and not some cruel hallucination.
There was so much love in his eyes, and then a reel of emotions—confusion, guilt, fear, anger, pain, and relief—so fast it made my chest ache.
The high healer quietly stepped out of the room.
I crossed the room quickly and took his hand, holding it tight like I could tether him to this moment. “It’s ok,” I whispered, voice shaking. “I’m here. I’m here now.”
His fingers curled around mine as if he were afraid I would vanish. His gaze moved over me in quiet panic—my face, my hair, my shoulders—like he needed proof.
“Is it really you?” he breathed. “Where—where are we?”
“Ashenport, your plan with Antonias, it worked,” I said softly. “Antonias brought us to his father’s estate. You’re safe,
Titus. We’re safe.”
Something in him cracked at that. He squeezed his eyelids shut and a tear rolled down his cheek, like the memories finally caught up with him all at once, heavy, and brutal and unavoidable. His jaw flexed, his throat worked.
“I—” he started, but the words tangled. He swallowed like it hurt. “Delilah… I’m so sorry,” he forced out, quiet and rough. “For what they did to you… and for what I had to do.”
My stomach tightened, but I held his hand even tighter because I could feel him spiraling, and right now he needed me steady more than he needed me shattered. “We survived,” I whispered, and made myself smile through the sting in my eyes. “We’re here. That’s all that matters.”
“Pickles,” he breathed again, trembling.
Sanaris cleared his throat behind me. “If we’re finished with the emotional reunion, I do still need him calm so I can properly assess the fish skins.”
I hadn’t even realized he was there. I sniffed and wiped my cheeks quickly. “I’m sorry. Thank you,” I said, voice small. “He’s… he’s been through a lot.”
He looked at me knowingly, as if Antonias had told him everything. “You both have,” he muttered softly with empathetic eyes. “Now, Lord Titus, breathe.”
Titus dragged in a shaky breath, still holding my hand like a lifeline.
A moment passed, and then his eyes narrowed slightly as if a new thought had finally pushed through the fog.
“Hey, Pickles?” he asked, voice tentative now that he had found me again.
“Hmm?” I looked at him attentively.
He glanced down at himself, then back at me with a wary seriousness that lasted exactly two seconds before it collapsed into confusion. “Why am I covered in fish skin?”
The question was so absurd against everything we’d just lived through that I actually laughed, breath hitching on the sound. “Coastal region burn treatment,” I said, wiping my face again like the tears had no right to still be there. “Apparently it’s effective.”
His mouth twisted. “Of course it is.”
Sanaris huffed. “They can come off now since he’s awake and stable. Would you like Lady Delilah to wait in the hall while I remove them?”
“I’ll stay,” I said immediately, panic sparking at the idea of leaving his side.
Titus’s gaze slid to me with a familiar glint. “You just want to see me naked,” he taunted.
I rolled my eyes, but my smile was full for the first time in days. “You wish.”
Sanaris began peeling away the fish skin bandages. Each layer revealed golden-tan skin beneath that looked remarkably better— bright shimmering gold in color, less angry, more hydrated—like his body had already started fighting its way back.
Titus reached for the hand mirror on the side table, lifting it with a careful, testing motion. He studied his face, then his hair, and his expression shifted into something like embarrassment.
“Would you cut my hair for me?” he asked, running his hand through uneven patches.
My chest pinched. “Of course. Anything you need.” “Anything?” he repeated, voice turning mischievous, a dirty grin tugging at his mouth as his brow cocked.
I scoffed, warmth returning to my cheeks. “Now I know you’re feeling better.”
Sanaris cleared his throat, finishing the last of the bandages, then straightened with a blush that deepened as he avoided looking at either of us too directly. “I’ll give you two sometime alone,” he muttered. “Let me know if you need anything, My Lord.” He practically fled the room, running.
The moment the door shut, Titus locked it with his magic.
Then he stood—fully naked—and stretched his strong, muscular body like he’d been caged and was testing the world again.
God, I had forgotten how tall he was. I bit my lower lip as I watched the hard planes of him shift, and how deliciously his cock hung between his thick, sculpted thighs.
He stepped close and placed his large, warm hand at my jaw, tracing it slowly with his fingers, stopping at my lips where his thumb dragged them down as he tilted my chin up.
“Take this ridiculous frilly dress off,” he commanded softly.
The air felt stolen from the room. My breath went shallow, my mouth watered, and my skin prickled like it recognized him before my mind could.
I did as he asked, loosening the corset. The heavy fabric slid to the ground, leaving me in the baby-blue silk shift Antonias’s staff had provided.
Titus’s gaze dropped to my mate mark. He moved one thin strap aside carefully, and his expression darkened.
“It’s still not healing?” he asked.
I shook my head. “It doesn’t feel right.”
“Does it hurt?” His voice went low, controlled.
“The acolytes used those brushes—” I began, but he lifted a finger to my lips, stopping me.
“Shh,” he said, and there was something raw in his eyes that made my heart sink. “Please. I can’t hear what they did to you—not right now.” He swallowed and forced himself steady. “I’ll have Sanaris look at it before we depart.”
I nodded. Then, because the ache in my chest needed somewhere to go, and I like to hide pain with humor. I tried for a weak smirk. “Great. He’ll want to put a fish on it.”
Titus barked a short laugh, the sound cracked but real. He slid into thin cotton pants laid beside the bed, then turned to me and lowered himself, placing his hands on the backs of my thighs.
In one smooth motion he lifted me.
My legs wrapped around his waist, my arms around his neck, and our mouths collided in a heated kiss.
He fisted a handful of my hair and pulled me impossibly closer, like he couldn’t stand the distance between our bodies even for a second.
His tongue lapped at mine, and I scraped my teeth against his lip in a soft bite.
He groaned.
He carried me into the attached washroom and set me on the sink, then kissed me deeper, harder, like he was trying to press himself into my bones.
“I never thought I’d be able to kiss you again, Pickles,” he breathed against my mouth.
“We got another chance…again,” I whispered, and the words shook.
“Thank all the fucking gods and Guardians,” he groaned, and he attacked my mouth with his kiss.
I gasped as he moved to my neck, sucking and nibbling until my legs tightened around him. His hands slid up to my breasts through the thin shift, kneading and pinching my nipples in that maddening, aggravating way that made my hips rock on instinct.
“I don’t want to live another day not being your mate, officially,” he said, pulling back just enough to look at me.
“The blood binding ceremony?” I asked, breathless.
“I almost died, Delilah,” he said, voice thick, and the humor drained from him like a tide pulling away. “I don’t want to waste another day with you not completely mine. I want the bond it will give us.”
My throat closed. “You mean we finally get to have our wedding?”
His eyes shifted between mine like he was sorting through lifetimes of memories at a rapid pace.
“A wedding…” he echoed softly. He looked lost for a heartbeat— not weak, just haunted—and the words came out with a strange ache. “We were supposed to be married, weren’t we?”
“We were,” I admitted, and saying it aloud made it real in a way my heart wasn’t ready for.
He stared at me for a long moment, something decisive settling into him, and then the High Lord sank to one knee—slowly, deliberately—and took my hand with both of his, like he was afraid he’d hold me wrong and break me.
His fingers trembled. Amber light flared soft in his eyes. “Delilah Raye,” he asked, voice raw and sure at the same
time, “I know I’ve asked you this once before but, will you marry me tomorrow? I promise to buy you the largest ring of your choosing.”
My chest went tight, and my eyes burned.
“Titus,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I don’t need a ring. I just need you.”
He stood so fast it felt like gravity shifted, and he kissed me like a vow, like he was sealing something holy that no council or law could take from us again.
We lost ourselves in the heat of the moment. After everything we had survived, everything we had nearly lost, it felt inevitable—our hearts already intertwined, longing eclipsing fear, and now our bodies aching to follow where they had already led.
I slid my straps down, baring swollen breasts and hard nipples aching for his mouth.
He didn’t hesitate—he latched onto one, sucking, while his hand worked the other, rubbing it sensually until I moaned and clenched my thighs together, pleasure pulsing between my legs.