Chapter 34

Elanor

Complete darkness obscures the bedroom when my consciousness surfaces in the middle of the night. My eyes half-open, I can barely discern Azran’s shape beside me, his chest rising and falling an inch from my face.

Too exhausted to second-guess myself, I nestle against him to steal a couple more hours of sleep.

I wake up alone. With last night a distant dream, I stare at the ceiling. Everything feels unreal. We made it out of the dark cells and now have a plan to leave this place for good.

Faint noise streams from the kitchen, confirming Azran is up. I still can’t believe he’s out there, and that we’re in the same place, sharing a roof even for just a moment before we have to run again.

Clutching my arms to my chest, I let out a heavy breath. I know I need to face him. Part of me wants to stop caring and just jump into his arms, whether he’ll have me or not. But the other part of me, the reasonable one, crushes the idea. Funny, that my cautiousness would choose today of all days to reveal itself.

A small smile blooms on my face as a familiar warmth washes over me. Savage is sat across from me, his furry head tilted to the side.

He was the bravest companion in life, and still is in Death.

In his presence, my own courage surfaces.

I toss the covers aside and get up. My body is still heavy and sore, but I’m feeling better. A quick scan of my legs confirms the salve has healed most of my recent wounds, and the red around my wrists is almost gone.

My gaze stops on the torn dress hanging from my body by a thread. I ought to make a great impression, wearing that rag. Gods, I miss Rina. I miss being home.

I try readjusting the fabric to cover some of my scars, but soon give up. What I need is a proper bath, only there is no conveniently filled tub in the bedroom, not even a bucket of water.

I run my fingers through my tangled hair as best as I can and take a deep breath.

I open the door and Azran freezes, an empty plate in hand.

He looks so different, and yet the same. He’s wearing a clean shirt buttoned halfway up, revealing his torn chest. Bruises decorate his handsome face and strong jaw, now shaved clean. The short hair highlights his sharp features, and his eyes carry no trace of crimson.

“You’re up,” he says, slowly putting the plate down.

I nod, my heart beating wildly. I missed him so damn much, I feel like I’m going to explode. Hope swells in my core when he meets my gaze. Everything is telling me to run to him and forget about the rest of the world, so I take a step forward, but he looks away.

I stop dead in my tracks, his rejection a stab in my heart. He barely looked at me, but I guess that split second was enough for him to make up his mind.

I can’t do this. I can’t be in the same room, this close to him but with this abyss separating us. I don’t understand his reaction, only that the bond is raging through me. I need to talk to him, touch him, but he’s keeping his distance. Turns out, yesterday was definitely not an invite for me to share a bed with him.

I glance around the small kitchen, my gaze landing on the one door I haven’t opened yet, next to the bedroom.

Words lodge in my throat and I step towards the closed door, praying to Death it’s unlocked.

I close the distance in a few steps and the knob turns under my fingers. I sag against the door the second it closes.

A tear rolls down my cheek, but I swallow my sobs. I refuse to let him hear me ugly cry after I so valiantly ran away.

Damn it. I should have said something, anything, like ask him what his problem is. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why do I feel like this?

My heart pounds in my ears as I try to blink away the tears clouding my vision.

The clink of dishes from the other side startles me. I push off from the door and quickly wipe the rest of my tears with the back of my hand.

The cold tiled floors under my bare feet grounding me, I realize I may not have made such a terrible decision by coming here. Like the rest of the safe house, the washroom is minimally equipped. A large wash basin, bucket of water, and chest occupy one corner, and a small vanity with a sink and mirror the other.

I could use a bath. If not a fucking thank you, I’ve at least earned that.

My resolve weakens slightly when I realize the water in the bucket is cold. Maybe not a bath, then, but a good wash.

Cold was putting it nicely. The water is downright freezing. Each splash numbs my muscles, and with them, my feelings. For that, I’m grateful.

I watch as the dried blood and grime washes away. I eye the small bottle of soap set on the ground and, after careful deliberation, dump half its contents over my head. I rub my scalp until my entire head is scrubbed clean and dump another bucket of icy water to rinse.

When I’m done, I snatch a towel out of the vanity and dry myself as quickly as I can. I dig into the chest and dress in a clean linen shirt and pants.

My teeth stop chattering after I pat dry my hair with the towel and tame it with a comb sitting by the sink.

I finally pause to face my reflection in the mirror. I don’t look that bad, all things considered. Hues of purple and yellow cover my face and arms, but the cuts are healing nicely. I drag my fingers along the red scars circling my chest, souvenirs from a lifetime ago. The memory of the darkclaws doesn’t elicit terror anymore. I’ve seen and gone through too much since.

A sad smile tugs my lips as the wraiths of another time haunt me, bringing me back to the moment I first met Azran.

I’ve come too far to give up now. I’m going to face him, whether he’s ready or not, and I’m going to tell him everything. I need him to know everything.

I pause in front of the door, trying to figure out where to begin. My stomach is in knots by the time I put my hand on the handle.

I release a deep breath as I prepare myself to pour my heart out and face my biggest fear. I murmur a silent prayer for Death to grant me her unwavering support. I’m going to need all of it.

When I can’t wait any longer, I pull the door open.

My chest tightens when the warmth of the room greets me.

Azran is waiting before the threshold, his arm frozen mid-air in a fist and heat radiating from his chest just inches from my face.

My blood freezes as an impossible need rushes through the bond.

Gathering what’s left of my courage, I slowly lift my head to face him. Gods, I forgot how tall he is.

We lock eyes and my breath hitches in my throat when he doesn’t look away.

Tears rolls down my cheeks as he meets my gaze, letting me see that his hazel eyes scream with the same longing.

I crash into him, burying my face into his shirt and hugging his waist so tightly my hands hurt.

An eternity passes before he wraps his arms around my shoulders and rests his chin on my head.

Thump.

His lungs expand with each deep breath.

Thump.

His pounding heart echoes in my head, screaming its existence and strength. And in this moment, I know. I know that each heartbeat sings for me, and that my entire world rests on that sound.

Thump.

It’s strength contrasts so strongly with the memory of its devastating absence it’s almost painful. The ghost of my heart shattering to pieces forever haunting me, I know that dread will accompany me to my grave.

Never again. I will never go through that again. I swear it. I won’t live in a world he is not a part of.

I inhale deeply. I could drown in his scent of pine and citrus, and it wouldn’t stanch my need for him.

“I’ve missed you, little one.”

He tightens his hold and my heart explodes, unable to contain our bond.

His voice is like a caress in my ears, silencing the fears and replacing them with blind trust. I only hug him tighter, unable to utter a word without choking on sobs.

I never thought I’d hear these words, no matter how many times I dreamed of seeing him again.

He’s here.

I’m home.