Page 68 of The Bound Blood
Cool. Still. Almost sacred.
The temple is small, stone-walled and hollow-feeling, lit only by a few flickering lanterns set into alcoves near the altar. I let the door ease shut behind me, my footsteps quiet on the worn floor as I move toward the figure at the center.
Raiden.
He’s on his knees, shoulders bowed forward, hands braced on his legs like he might collapse entirely if he moves. His head is bent, hair falling over his face, and even from behind, I can feel the way grief clings to him like mist. Heavy. Suffocating.
He doesn’t look up as I approach. But he knows I’m here in the same way I can feel his pain. I sink to the floor in front of him, not touching him yet. The silence stretches, deep and thick. Then I reach out and wrap my arms around him, tugging him into me.
He exhales—shaky, broken—and leans into me like something inside him finally gives way. His arms come around me, and he buries his head into my shoulder. I hold him tighter.
We stay like that for a long time.
No questions. No explanations.
Justbreathing.
When I finally speak, my voice is quiet, barely more than a breath. “What happened?”
Raiden’s fingers twitch against my back. For a moment, I don’t think he’ll answer.
Then—“I’ve been cast out.”
His voice is hoarse. Empty. Like the words scraped their way up from a place he doesn’t want me to see.
I go still, heart catching. “Raiden…”
He doesn’t elaborate. Doesn’t explain who or why or what that even means. But I can feel the pain in the spaces he leaves blank.
I slide my hand up to his nape, threading my fingers gently into his hair. “You’re not alone.”
He lets out a shudder of a breath. His hand moves to the back of my neck, mirroring my actions.
“I know,” he says.
Raiden doesn’t say anything else.
But his hands stay on me—one cradling the back of my neck, the other curled at my waist—and there’s something trembling in him that hasn’t eased, even with me here. Not quite.
I pull back just slightly. Just enough to look at him.
His forehead rests against mine now, his eyes closed. Like he’s afraid if he opens them, I’ll be gone. Like he’s still bracing for another blow.
I lift a hand and trace his jaw with my fingertips.
That’s when he opens his eyes.
And it hits me—all at once—how raw they are. Still that beautiful amber, but now they are vulnerable andso fullof things he doesn’t know how to say. For someone who can shift into something powerful enough to tear through enemies… he looks breakable.
His gaze flickers down. My mouth. Then back up again, slower this time. Almost hesitant.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispers.
My breath catches.
Because I want that. I wanthim.Not just the kiss—though the thought makes my skin tingle—butthis, too. This moment where he lets me see the part of him no one else ever gets close to.
But—
