CHAPTER 37

AUREN TURLEY

Thump.

Two thousand nine hundred and ninety-seven

Thump.

Two thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight

Thump.

Two thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine

I've been counting every single one of Slade's heartbeats since I woke up. Hand splayed right over his pure golden scale, eyes watching the rise and fall of his breaths. Ribbons itching to trace over his muscled pecs and abs.

I'm content to watch him breathe. To feel his warmth. To marvel at the changes on his body. To simply let myself revel in the fact that he's here and that we're together again. That his empowering presence made our pair bond flare, destroying all the other worms writhing in my head.

They're gone. Finally, satisfyingly, gone.

Our connection did that. Destroyed the barrier that dared try to block him from me. Because our bond is so much stronger than anything else. Than distance and time, than magic and threat.

So I count his heartbeats, and I savor.

Thump.

Three thousand

Instead of hearing the next one, I'm startled when he speaks. "You're awake." His voice is low and sexy, weighed down from sleep.

"I didn't want to wake you," I murmur. "You needed your rest."

His hands come down to grip both of my arms, and then he drags me right up so we're face to face, my entire length on top of him like the icing on a layered cake.

"You did have me quite exhausted," he says with a playful smirk. "You were insatiable ."

I flick him on the nose. "That was the bond."

His chuckle warms my entire self, inside and out. "Oh no, don't go blaming all of it on the bond. Some of that was all you."

He's right.

My finger traces over the subtle scales on his cheek that are now edged in gold, and the black lines I can see through his stubble. "I like seeing you like this," I say. "Rot and Rip together."

"You made me whole," he says. "Fixed how I'd been ripped apart."

I was ripped apart too. But his presence, his aura stretching out to meet mine, it burned through every thief in my head. And my ribbons seemed to come even more alive as I looked at this spiked, scaled, terrifying male, and yet, I wasn't afraid. Because I knew innately, he'd never hurt me.

"You fixed me too," I tell him.

I can't help but touch and stare at all these changes in him. I can't get enough of him at all. Which is why even when my body aches deliciously, the space between my legs starts to tingle again as my hands rove, still seeking connection.

"You knew," I say, eyes flicking up to his face. "You knew we were a p?yur the moment we met."

His head tips. There is no denial. "Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

His hands stroke gently up my arms. "You weren't ready for that. You didn't deserve to have such pressure put on you. You deserved a choice."

I take in his words, my brow furrowing. "But we're fated."

"Yes, but fate shouldn't be a noose. Bonds shouldn't be a shackle. You needed your freedom. You needed to have the opportunity to stand on your own two feet and decide."

I hum in thought, considering his words, and I know there's logic in what he's saying. If the spiked and frightening Commander Rip had told me right away that I was supposed to be his, I would have fought against it. Rejected it.

He's right. I wasn't ready.

"Why didn't the bond start to connect until we were apart?" I ask.

His shoulder lifts. "I don't know for sure. But p?yur bonds don't always complete. There is a choice in it, if the fated chooses to stay apart. Our bond must've been growing stronger over time."

Now, I can sense the bond steadily, like a solid foundation to prop up my soul, reassuring me that I will forever be grounded. It feels like him. Protective. Safe. Fierce. And through it, like a string connected from his heart to mine, I can also sense his love for me. His utter devotion that fills my chest with flutters.

"Part of me wishes we were still consumed with the bond magic," I admit quietly. "That we could just…stay here. Together. Without anything else. No troubles or worries or threats. Just you and me."

After a pause, he tilts my face and kisses me tenderly on my forehead. Each closed eyelid, my cheeks, and then a gentle one left upon my lips. When he pulls away, I can see in his green eyes that the fire has calmed for him too, and in its wake, the rushing waters of reality.

I don't want to get swept away in it. But I know we have to.

"Just you and me." His thumb strokes against my jaw, and I can see his expression warring with the same wish I have. "One day soon, Goldfinch, we will have that. I promise you," he murmurs.

I smile sadly. "But not today."

"No, not today."

With a nod, I give him one more kiss, and then we both get up from the bed. We find a washroom down the corridor, and then we bathe together, all tender caresses and quiet gestures while we speak such difficult words.

And we have so many things to say.

At my urging, he fills me in on what happened in Orea first. Then, it's my turn, and I tell him everything. Every single thing that happened, from the second I jumped into the rip, to the moment he found me on that street. He listens with rapt attention, taking in every word, asking a question here or there, but mostly, just letting me get it all out.

It's cathartic, in a way. Like opening a festering wound. Letting the confined infection drain away, making me face the pain and admit the aches.

I let it all out while he washes me gently, fingers delving through my hair, soaping up every single ribbon and stroking over my skin. As if his touch is trying to ease the harder parts I have to say.

But I can tell those parts hurt him too. I can feel his guilt. His fury. His regret for not being with me.

"It's not your fault," I say to him as the bathwater cools around us and the soap bubbles dissipate.

He doesn't reply, though. Probably because he doesn't agree.

When I get to the end, I have to tell him the worst parts. About his father. His mother. The king. My memories…

His body shakes, but it's not from the cold water. He turns me around, gripping my face in his hands, eyes locking onto mine. "I am so fucking sorry," he tells me, emotion thick in his throat. A tear slips down from my eye, but his thumb catches it. "And I am so entirely in awe of you. So incredibly proud."

I shake my head, ready to tell him all the ways I failed, but his fingers still my lips. "No, Auren. You were so fucking strong. Don't refute that."

"Your mother…"

"We'll find her," he says, and there's no doubt in his tone.

"I know we will." There's no doubt in mine either.

With all the words drained away, we finally let the water drain too. Then we both get out and dry off. We go through the motions slowly as we try to reconcile our current reality, now that we know everything.

But this time, we don't have to carry these burdens or make decisions alone. Slade looks at me across the washroom as he towels off his wet hair, and he nods. Bolstering me. Silently reassuring me that whatever we face next, we'll face it together.

We find extra clothes in an armoire right next to the tub and start getting dressed. Slade finds a gray shirt that gapes open at the collar, and thick black pants. They're tight, but he manages. I grab plum trousers that fit pretty well, but the only tunic I find is white and incredibly thin. So thin that it shows my nipples.

Slade eyes me. "Maybe we should trade shirts. As much as I love the sight of you in that one, it will make me have to kill a lot of people if they dare to look your way."

Snorting, I shake my head at him. The shirt is also too loose, gaping to reveal my cleavage. So I fix it all by forming another golden chest plate. Except this one I make to only meld over my bust, belly, and back. I create the perfect openings for every single ribbon too, while leaving my arms and shoulders bare for my shirt to fit snugly beneath.

"There, that's better," I say happily, plucking at the sleeves and straightening the collar of the shirt. I pull on some worn brown boots next. They pinch my toes a bit, but they'll do.

I smile as I watch Slade struggle to lace up the front of his too-small pants. I have to say though, his ass looks amazing in them. "Want me to gild you a pair of trousers?" I tease.

He flashes me a grin. "Would you make it fit even tighter than what I have on now?"

"It's a possibility." I shrug as my ribbons finish combing through my hair.

He straightens up and presses a kiss to my lips. "Next time."

The conversation is playful, but the promise isn't, because I know he's talking about so many more next times.

All the next times we desperately want to have. All of our one days where we won't have to rush. Won't have to face insurmountable problems. Days where we can simply lie in each other's arms and…live.

But in order to make sure we get that, we have to face these worries and threats. We have to face these hard realities so that we can finally be free.

And then, we will get our one days, our next times, our happy.

One day.