Page 173 of Commanding Flame and Shield
Something like pride flickered in The Commander's gaze as he nodded. “Well put, Commander Porter. As for our fallen, they deserve the honor of a soldier’s funeral, and we will give it to them. Until we meet again.”
“Until we meet again,” we all murmured our assent. “May it be soon.”
Weighted silence sat over us, a fog on the water. My eyes never left her. They traced the lines of her, memorizing her face, and the outline of her body within the thin rain-soaked linen. Her still rising and falling chest. Alive. She was alive. After a long while, her breathing and heart began to quicken, and all my muscles went taught. Aren wiped the strands of hair from her face, and she gave a soft whine before licking her chapped lips.
It was only a whisper. Just my name. My body lunged forward of its own volition, and Aren helped her sit up, cradling her against his frame.
She gulped, and then coughed, and Alec summoned a stream of water to her lips. She drank gratefully, and then blinked open her eyes. They immediately found mine, and emotion welled there. My own eyes stung with the ache, but as her tears poured down her cheeks, my face grew wet too.
“August—” the sob broke her voice. “Michael?”
Aren and my eyes flashed to each other, confusion mirrored in his.
“Ally, you’re okay. We have you.”
“I know. August you…we—” She shook her head, as though to clear it. Instead of trying to tell me, she reached her long, stained fingers out for me. I shot my eyes to Aren, and then closed the distance between us. I knelt by her hand, our faces so close our breath mingled.
It was impossible to hide the tremor in my fingers, or the racing of my heart.
This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. Not how it was supposed to go. But she had what we’d been waiting for. I swallowed my nerves and reached out to accept her outstretched hand.
SEVENTY-EIGHT
REGRESSION
ALVARA
Michael stood looking out the window of our little apartment. The moon illuminated the tiny dwelling in a silvery glow, far greater than the faint orange flicker in the hearth. He’d been waking most nights, terror plaguing his dreams and stripping his warm body from our bed. Turning as I approached, his eyes softened. Michael reached out a long hand, and stroked his calloused fingers down my face. I leaned into the motion, soaking in his warmth. He turned me away from him before pulling my back against his firm chest. Wrapping his long arms around me, Michael set his hands gently on my belly, and kissed the length of my neck.
His breath warmed my cheek, and I felt the blood rush there as he whispered, “I love you. And we will figure this out.”
I nodded, leaning further into his warm embrace, desire stirring in my core. Desire to be touched and kissed, and entirely full.
After a long while, he kissed my cheek again, and whispered, “Walk with me?”
I rushed through the rest of the memory that had haunted me for three eternal centuries. The way we plead for mercy that was never granted, the way he fought them off as long as he could before they murdered him in cold blood on the icy Boston streets…
…Shrieks of agony filled my ears as I stared down the man in front of me. My stomach heaved as the terrifying reek of charred flesh filled my nose, and my eyes poured at the pain radiating down my muscles, and the blistering of my skin from the long hours in the stocks. Jacob would save me—I didn’t know how, but I knew he had to. It was the only way. I raised my head, my neck screaming with the effort, and squinted through the well of tears pouring down my cheeks to search for him.
No.
They had him, his limp body hung between two monsters pretending to be men. I screamed his name, again and again. The villagers threw more rancid remains at me, and I cried out as a liquid burned against my eyes. The smell of kindling. A blinding flash of light and panicked screams…and my name on the air.
The familiar voice screamed my name, but it was brittle with agony, “Mary!!!”
He was coming for me. He would.
But the pain was blinding. The world was on fire.
That memory wasn’t new to me, but had never been in such vivid detail. I’d never had the name of who I searched for in the crowd of people calling for my death.Jacob…
…“Carlyle?” I called over my shoulder coyly. He had already stripped the heavy armor from his tight muscled chest, weapons safely stashed under shrubs to his side. His skin nearly glowed under the moon, and his smile was heart shattering. I slowly stepped into the steaming spring, skin smarting as my toes inched into the rocky bed of clay and stone…
...“Saoirse, to you,” I smiled softly at the young woman we called The Wraith. Her dark cloak was the same shade of midnight as her ebony hair, which hung in a long plait down her back. Warm tawny skin, speckled with freckles, crinkled around a sly smile as the young woman rose from her bow.
“With all due respect, Your Majesty, you have more than earned your title.”
“With all due respect, your Queen believes you’ve earned a less formal tone. Aren’t we friends yet, Niamh?”
