Page 47 of The Bound Blood
“I’m sorry?—”
“Little Fire.” His voice is soft now, rough with something deeper. “You just fought off an ancient magic council, cracked a hole in the Veil, and sealed it back shut with nothing but instinct and raw power. You think I’m worried about a few bruises?”
I let out a breath that feels like it’s been trapped in my ribs for hours. I like when he calls me little fire. Not that I’m going to tell him that, he might stop using the nickname.
“I don’t know what happens now,” I admit. “I don’t know if I’m supposed tobehere anymore.”
“You’re supposed to be exactly where you are.”
I blink. “Here… in your quarters?”
His lips twitch into something that could almost be a smile. “I didn’t say youhadto be here. But I’m not complaining.”
There’s a beat of silence between us. Full of everything we’re not saying. Of everything we’veseenin the last few days.
Kael’s eyes skim over me, his head tilting slightly. “You should lie down. Your magic’s still burning off you in waves.”
I glance toward the bed, then back at him, hesitation coiled tight in my chest. “I’m not sure I can sleep. And I’m wearing dirty clothes.”
He moves quickly and pulls out one of his shirts that looks like it would hang to my knees. “Put this on to sleep.” He hands it to me and turns away.
I lick my lips, my fingers gripping the soft fabric as I decide. I do feel tired. And I know he will protect me, so I quickly shed thedress, letting it slide to the floor at my feet, and pull on the shirt. It settles over me, all the way to my knees, and it smells like him.
I clear my throat awkwardly. “I’m changed.”
He turns back around and takes me in. My cheeks heat with a sort of embarrassment. It feels intimate, being in his space, and wearing his clothing. His gaze softens, his voice dipping low. “Would it help if I held you?”
The question lands softly. There’s no pressure or expectation behind it. Just Kael, offering to be my anchor.
I nod. Barely. But it’s enough.
He moves first, shedding his outer jacket and stepping around me to pull the blanket back. I climb onto the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb the tight corners, but the mattress still dips beneath me.
Kael joins me, slow and deliberate, his movements smooth like shadow. And then his arms come around me, careful and firm all at once, pulling me into the solid heat of his chest.
The world still hums with aftershocks—magic and memory and things I haven’t even begun to process—but his heartbeat is steady. His breathing slow.
A moment later, his wings unfold and wrap around us, forming a cocoon of obsidian warmth. I press my face into his shoulder, breathing him in. He smells like cold magic and wind, like shadows laced with something sharp and clean. And I finally feel…safe.
I don’t know what tomorrow looks like. I don’t know what the Council will decide. But right now, in this moment, wrapped in Kael’s arms and his wings, I don’t have to know.
I just have to breathe.
And rest.
His warmth bleeds into me. My fingers curl slightly into his shirt. His wing shifts, tightening around me. My eyes flutter closed.
And sleep pulls me under.
But it doesn’t feel like sleep.
Not exactly.
It feels like I’m floating.
Like slipping between worlds.
The air tastes like magic—cool and electric, familiar in a way that makes my chest ache. I’m standing in a place that looks like the Veil but isn’t. No shadows clawing at the edges. No monsters. Just a stretch of black sky lit with faint silver threads and drifting runes that pulse like fireflies.
