Page 137 of Labyrinthine
I reel. How hadn’t I seen it? How had I missed this sacrificial kind of love, this unspoken ruin? My vision blurs.
“All this time, I thought you were hiding yourself. But you were hidingme.”
“You were never meant to carry it alone,” he repeats. “So I did.”
“And I never saw,” I whisper. “I looked at you and Ineversaw.”
“I didn’t want you to.”
I cover his hand with mine, holding it tightly. “And now?”
“Now?” He lifts his eyes, and they blaze. “Now I want to be seen. If you choose me…I want it to be real.”
“I don’t deserve?—”
“You deserve everything.” His grip tightens. “Even if it kills me.”
I stare at him, blinking back tears. “You don’t hate me?”
He laughs, low and disbelieving. “You think love and sacrifice don’t walk hand in hand?” He draws my fingers to his mouthand presses them to his lips. “I’d carry your darkness a thousand times over. It was never a burden. Not for you.”
I want to believe him. No—worse. I do believe him. That’s what terrifies me.
“I’ll never buy your affection,” he says softly. “I mean it. I won’t use pain to bind you. I won’t weaponize your guilt.”
His mouth finds my temple.
“Nor will I let you shrink from what you are.”
A beat of silence—two, three—long enough to feel his heart against mine, erratic and echoing. Then?—
“Darian doesn’t understand, not entirely,” he adds. “He pieced together fragments and mistook them for truth. That is why he wouldn’t stop: he believed he was saving you. A man convinced he is right when he isn’t is the most dangerous kind.”
Mallen leans forward and traces a finger along my collarbone. My breath shudders out. His touch is reverent, but it lights a fire under my skin.
His gaze dips. His eyes burn. He sees my arousal—acknowledges it—and still waits.
“We should get out,” he murmurs.
He washes his hair and then helps me from the water. His hands are gentle, wrapping me in a towel before tending to himself. I watch him dress—beautiful and solemn and wounded—and wonder how I ever thought I could live without him.
The servant girl enters, trembling. She braids my hair with shaking fingers while I sit still and let her work. In the mirror, Mallen’s reflection glowers. I shoot him a look—stop—but he only sighs and stokes the fire like it might save him.
The girl bolts the second she’s done. Mallen yells after her to bring food. I bury my face in my hands.
“You scare people,” I mutter.
He shrugs. “Good. It keeps them from stealing you.”
I snort. “You think you own me?”
“No. But I think you chose me. And I won’t let you forget it.”
He opens his arms. I go. He gathers me like a vow, his mouth finding my neck in slow benediction, each kiss scattering thought like ash.
Food arrives. Mallen thanks the servants this time, though he doesn’t release me. I eat like I’ve been starved. He watches me with quiet amusement, and then eats too.
For a moment, it’s ordinary. As if we haven’t broken each other. As if the world isn’t ending.
