Page 84 of Fallen Court

Lach rested his forehead against mine. “That was…”

I understood why he couldn’t finish the sentence. The word didn’t exist.

My head lolled on his shoulder, a lazy smile taking up what I suspected might be a permanent residence. But when I opened my eyes, the sight of bloody footprints and glass shards swept it away.

“Lach,” I said slowly, “are you…injured?”

He glanced at me, his sheepish grin giving way to a grimace. “Possibly.”

“Why—” I cut off my own question with a frustrated screech. “Put me down.”

“Not in here,” he said, ignoring the request as he carried me out of the room. The bottle’s glass crunched with each step, and as soon as we hit the carpeted threshold of the bedroom, I wiggled free of his arms.

“Sit down,” I commanded before he could do any more damage.

He rolled his eyes and continued to the bed, tracking more blood and glass across the carpet.

“Lachlan Gage!”

He flourished his hand, bowing slightly at the waist before he took a seat on the edge of the mattress. “Wait a second.” He waved, and the blood and glass vanished.

“Why didn’t you do that before?” I asked as I hurried over to inspect his feet.

“I had better things to do.” The smirk was back. “A little glass wasn’t going to stop me.”

“It took you two seconds to clean it up.” I sank to my knees, cringing as I began picking the embedded glass out of his lacerated feet.

“Would have been a waste of time.”

I shot him an incredulous look.

He held up his hands. “In my defense, you were naked.”

I fell silent, continuing my work. After washing his feet and asking Lach to dispose of the remaining shards, I ordered him into bed.

“It will heal,” he promised, but he obeyed.

I crossed my arms, words failing me. I knew that. Most of the cuts were already fading into pinkish scars. In a few hours, there would be no trace of them. But it wasn’t the injuries that bothered me. I wanted to let it go, wanted to pretend it wouldn’t gnaw at me. But I couldn’t. “I don’t want you hurting yourself to be with me.”

He’d already sacrificed so much.

“It wasn’t—”

“There is a memento mori burned onto your neck. Enough!” A sob escaped me. It had to be enough. He couldn’t keep destroying himself.

“Better mine than yours.” His voice was quiet, but sincerity blazed in his eyes.

I choked back another sob. “But it is mine. You are mine. I wear that mark as much as you do, because if they find you, if they…” Words failed me again. There was nothing that could describe the despair that thought carved into me.

Sadness softened his face. “I’m not dying today, my love.”

He didn’t promise me tomorrow.

He couldn’t. No one could.

Every decision led us down a new path. There was no future. Only choices.

And I could let that break me or I could keep fighting to live each moment. We could keep fighting.