“You’re safe now,” he repeated.
And I believed him. At least I wanted so badly to believe I wasn’t being held by an enemy. I just needed a moment to breathe. To gather my thoughts. To think this through.
“I am not your enemy,” he whispered.
My head popped up as I watched the recoil of magic move along my arms. I was so surprised that I had anything left in me, I didn’t care that I had sent him my thoughts. I looked into his teary eyes and I knew he was in as much pain as I was. I leaned into his chest. One of his hands wrapped around my head, stroking my hair back gently, the other bringing me onto his lap. And I curled up there like it was my home, unable to stop my crying.
“My mother…”
“I know,” he said softly.
My tears fell onto his short-sleeved, black tunic as he squeezed me tighter.
I cried in his arms until my tears dried, but the trauma never lightened. I couldn’t come to terms with what my mother had subjected me to. Would I ever truly feel safe again?
“Oh, Ripley… I’m so sorry. I wish I came sooner.”
I rubbed my eyes with my fists then sent them threading through my hair, pulling at the roots in the anguish of reliving it.
His hands pressed down on mine to force me to release the pressure. “Do not hurt yourself.”
“You said we had a bond. If you said you knew how I was feeling at all times, where the hell were you?” My tone was more accusatory than I intended. This would have been his chance to prove to me he had been faking his persona with the Cidris, that he did care about me. But he was too fucking late.
“I thought you were upset about our conversation, not that your mother was trying to breed you. I cannot see through your eyes or read your thoughts or hear what you are hearing.”
“Does our stupid bond not penetrate through those cages?” A pain seized my chest. He had rescued mefrom that horror… again. And I was accusing him of not coming soon enough after I had made it clear that I did not want to be around him.
“Ripley, my connection to you is not by magic. It’s engrained in me as a male Elizian—an instinct that has bound me to you ever since the ritual when you were four. It’s a part of who I am, as constant as breathing.”
I stared hard at him, groaning. Cautiously, I leaned my head against his chest again, listening to the beat of his heart as if it would give me some solace. I felt his rhythmic movements with each rise and fall of his chest. There was a beat of silence before I said, “I wish I could feel what you are feeling. It would bring a lot of clarity.”
He stroked my hair a few more times before saying, “I wouldn’t think to let you feel what I’m feeling right now. It’s gaping misery.”
I didn’t know how to feel after hearing his words, but it didn’t make me feel better or worse. There was one thing I knew I wanted to say to him. “I’m glad you found me.”
“I willalwaysfind you,” he promised.
Bile surged in me suddenly, sloshing around my stomach, making my head feel hazy. The headachefrom being depleted overwhelmed me, and I turned off the bed to let out the vomit just as my headache roared across my scalp. Its abruptness knocked me to the side, and Fletcher’s hands came down my shoulders to keep me steady.
“Easy,” he whispered with a gentleness weaved into his tone.
I wiped my mouth, watching him drag something across the edge of the bed. It was a tray full of berries, bread, bananas, and tea. “Here.”
He lifted the tea toward me, but I put my hand up and looked away. “I don’t want the tea.” I didn’t want to be messed up. I wanted to remain sober to keep my wits about me.
He set the tea down and brought up four berries. “Then have these. It’ll take the edge off.”
I sighed and took them gingerly in my hand before popping one in my mouth and repositioning myself on the bed. My magic swelled as the sweetness exploded in my mouth and coated my tongue. Fletcher’s magic zipped up and down once before nestling somewhere quietly in my gut.
He dismounted the bed, made his way downstairs, and came back up with towels to clean up the mess.
“Oh—uh. I can do that.” I turned to get out of bed.
Keeping his eyes down on my vomit, he put his hand up to halt me. “Allow me.” He laid the towels on the ground over it then peered up at me. “Please, keep eating.” He looked back down and began wiping. “You didn’t eat much in the cages. You need this to regain your strength.”
I swallowed and ate another. “How do you know?”
“I kept a close eye on you whenever I could.” He tossed the soiled cloth in a basket beside the nightstand and took a cleaning bottle of soapy water and sprayed the ground. “I gave you extra food. But you didn’t eat. Why?”
