Chapter 30 – Irishen
The words hung in the air, and Irishen had a hard time comprehending them.
“What?” he gasped.
“Sirens gain their power at first kill. I received mine as a couple-of-hours-old infant,” Wayla said.
“Siren? You are a siren?” By instinct, his shields flared up, and he flinched back.
Wayla turned ashen when his shield pushed at her, and Irishen’s mind finally turned back on. The first thing that registered to him was the feeling in the bond. Wayla was bracing for pain, expecting it. Her breathing was shallow and eyes too wide, skin too pale.
Then Irishen heard the menacing rumble. Slowly, glacially slowly, Irishen turned his head and faced the massive shifted jaguar staring at him, muscles tense, ready to pounce. That was a beast ready to defend its mate, a breath away from attacking.
Siren.
He realized he had waited too long to say anything or pull his shields down when he felt the mate bond twist and fray. Wayla was pulling her feet from his lap, face dispassionate. There wasn’t even the tiniest flicker of life in her eyes. With every heartbeat, the bond felt more distant.
Panic clawed at his insides, and he grasped her wrist in a viselike hold. He wouldn’t let her go.
Wayla froze. Literally, ice coated her skin, and wind roared inside the room, rattling windows.
Massive jaws clamped over his arm and the jaguar bit down. He would have torn Irishen’s arm off if Wayla hadn’t reacted to the echo of the pain. Somehow it was that pained little moan, almost inaudible, that broke the stupor over his mind.
“Morsel, fuck, are you all right?” He tried to see her arm, an irrational fear that the wounds on his own arm somehow were transferring to her arm.
The jaguar growled again but released his arm when Irishen dropped his hold on Wayla’s wrist.
“I’m fine,” she whispered, avoiding his eyes. “I-I’m sorry,” she stammered.
Irishen couldn’t follow her train of thought or all the feelings in the bond that was still fraying. “Sorry? For what? Wayla, stop, please. Give me a fucking second.”
“Telling you was a mistake.” She shook her head. “A mistake. I’m sorry. I never should have. So fucking stupid,” she rambled on and scrambled up from the couch.
“Wayla, wait,” he tried to say, but the second Jarred moved out of the way, she was moving.
“Sorry. Never should have taken the bond. Not without telling you and that was a mistake,” she said, while moving away. When Irishen tried to rise up, the jaguar blocked his way. “The bond…” Wayla rasped. “I’ll break it. Set you free.”
“No!” Irishen roared. And finally, his brain started firing again.
All those little inconsistencies started to click together and build a picture.
She wasn’t just a stormbringer. She was half siren.
His mate was a half siren and halfway out the door.
He defied Jarred’s growl and pushed the jaguar out of the way when he rushed after her.
“Mate. Wayla. Stop.” He did the only thing he could think of and bodily slammed into her and rolled them to the floor, making sure she ended on top of him, but was secure in his arms. She thrashed in his hold, pupils blown wide.
“Wayla. Breathe.”
She didn’t stop thrashing, and the bond kept tearing. How she was doing it that fast, he didn’t know, but it hurt so fucking much to feel the threads snapping. Feel her sliding farther and farther away. He needed to get her to calm down. Now.
“Breathe.” He tried to soothe her, to no avail. “I’ve got you. Always, mate, remember?” Desperately, he pushed all of that into the bond. He needed to break through her panic and pain before it was too late.
The jaguar chuffed, nudging her with his giant head, and that movement pressed her tighter against his chest. Irishen braced against another bite, but it didn’t come. Jarred just kept nudging Wayla, like he was trying to shake her awake.
“Breathe with me,” he growled out a demand before sealing his lips over hers. He pushed his power into her like he had done before and then pulled it back. Wayla went lax in his hold, so he did it again. And again. And again.
Slowly, oh so agonizingly slowly, her breathing eased and slowed down. Irishen didn’t let up, feeling how her body soaked in his coolness. Then the bond calmed, stopped writhing, precariously close to snapping. They kept breathing together.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured against her lips. “I’m sorry.” He repeated those little sentences and reached out in the bond. Wayla tensed but didn’t recoil when he stroked the bond.
So fragile, it was a thread ready to snap. It had latched in place with such a force and now it was torn with equal force. Irishen shivered.
He had almost lost his mate bond.
He sensed Jarred shifting back, but he didn’t pull Wayla away from Irishen, only wrapped himself around her back and murmured soothingly. Wayla still stayed silent, immobile, eyes closed. She didn’t respond to Jarred. She didn’t touch the bond.
What the fuck could he do? Anything could tip her over the edge and she would shred what was left of their bond. So what if the general wisdom said that breaking a mate bond once formed took a lot of time and effort? Clearly, his mate wasn’t playing by the rules in many things.
Irishen wanted to smack himself. He had sworn not to hurt her and the next moment had shielded against her. He didn’t need to imagine how much it would hurt him if she ever flinched back like that and pulled her shields up against him. It would shred his heart.
He hadn’t been thinking. Not a good enough reason, but that was the truth. “I’m sorry, morsel,” he whispered. She hadn’t moved at all, so their lips were still almost brushing. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s fine,” Wayla’s reply came with a shuddering breath.
No one in the room believed that sentence.
“Let’s get you up and on the couch, love,” Jarred finally murmured.
Reluctantly, Irishen released his hold on her so that Jarred could gather her up and carry her over there. Wayla’s nails bit into his arms when he didn’t move with her. Pain from Jarred’s bite shot through him, but Irishen pushed that aside and scrambled to move up with them.
They piled on the couch, Wayla between them.
Unsure of what else to do, Irishen kept pouring his power into the bond that soaked it in like a starved creature.
He kept his breathing slow and even, soothing Wayla, every time her breathing threatened to pick up.
At some point, Irishen realized she had fallen asleep, utterly exhausted.
He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.
“What the fuck was that?” he murmured quietly, still shaken beyond belief. She had almost torn the mate bond to shreds in moments. The raw power… the panic… the absolute fear… It made Irishen want to throw up. He jerked when Jarred suddenly answered his question.
“She was captured before. Never hold her back or I will bite your arms off, no matter how much it’ll hurt her momentarily.”
“Wh-what?”
“Sirens are the most hunted creatures in all the realms,” Jarred rumbled.
Wayla flinched at his harsh tone, but didn’t fully wake.
Jarred’s voice dropped into a steady, low purr that seemed to lull her back to sleep.
“She’s a half siren. Keep up, Sleethill.
I’m not going to tear you a new one on the shields because I wasn’t much better when she told me, but never, and I mean never, grab her like that again. ”
“What do you mean, she was captured?” Rage built in his veins and he had to fight hard not to let it flare up and disturb Wayla.
Jarred purred even lower. “I don’t know much. Just that whoever did it is dead. But she shuts down when you grab her like that. She keeps rubbing her wrists and throat when she’s agitated… Mentioning chains sets it off, too.”
Fuck.
Irishen tried to stay calm, but the bond between them still pulsed with pain. There was a tightness in Wayla’s lips, despite the sleep. She clung to Jarred and whimpered softly when he stroked over her wrist.
“Always shielding. All that power. What the hell have you been through, little mate?” Irishen murmured.