Page 94 of The Bound Blood
The hurt threading those words guts me. Shit.
“No,” I say, stepping close enough that her breath warms the collar of my shirt. “I was trying to stay away. And failing. Badly.”
Her fingers curl around mine, tentative and trembling. “Don’t stay away, Kael. I think I need you to be close.”
“Sunshine,” I murmur, brushing a strand of her hair from her cheek. My thumb lingers a second too long. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
Her eyes flutter shut at the touch, a soft exhale escaping her lips. When she opens them again, it’s with a rawness that steals whatever air I was pretending to have inside my lungs.
“I do know,” she whispers. “It isn’t just my magic connected to you. It’s my heart, too.”
My chest tightens. Hard. She steps closer, until the space between us is nothing but our breath and heat and unspoken truth.
“All three of you,” she goes on quietly, voice shaking with sincerity, “are part of my soul now. And when you stay away…my soul feels it.”
A single heartbeat. Two. My shadows fall completely still.
She has no idea what she’s doing to me. Or worse—she does.
“Lindsay,” I breathe, her name turning into something dangerous in my mouth, “you shouldn’t say things like that when I’m trying to keep you safe. I am not safe for you.”
She searches my face, eyes soft but unwavering. “Maybe being close to you is the safest I’ve ever been.”
Everything inside me fractures just slightly.
The part that wants to obey Azrael…goes silent. The part that wants her…steps forward.
I cup the side of her face—close enough for her to feel the chill of my shadows and the warmth of my skin underneath.
“Sunshine,” I whisper, voice cracking at the edges, “you’re going to be the end of me.”
But I don’t move away.
I can’t.
Her breath trembles as she looks up at me. I don’t think about it, I simply lean in, pressing my forehead gently to hers.
The contact is barely anything—just shared breath, shared warmth—but the world narrows to a single point. Her lashes flutter. Her pulse skitters. The bond I refuse to acknowledge pulls tight enough to hurt.
Then her knees buckle.
“Lindsay—”
I catch her before she hits the ground, one arm under her knees, the other bracing her back. Her head lolls into the curve of my shoulder, hair brushing my throat. She isn’t unconscious, not fully, but close enough that fear slices clean through me.
I hold her tighter.
She murmurs something against my collar—my name, broken and slurred—and any chance I had at rational decision-making evaporates.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can filter them. “I’m not letting you fall.”
Her fingers curl weakly into my shirt, and that is the moment I decide. I can’t keep my distance.
I adjust my grip and lift her fully into my arms. She fits too easily against me, her face tucked under my jaw, breath warm on my neck. She sighs—a soft, trusting sound—and something inside me fractures.
“You should be furious with me,” I murmur as I start walking, “for what I’m about to do.”
She doesn’t answer. She’s drifting, barely conscious, weight warm and heavy in my arms.
