31. Mira

thirty-one

Mira

Bobble throws a glance over his shoulder, questioning me as I hang back in what I've nicknamed the war room in my mind. I nod at him to go ahead, trying to impress my meaning into the movement. I'll catch up in a minute.

Once the others are gone, Tairyn stops his pacing and watches me cross the room to him. There's not a twinkle of amusement or a smug, shit-eating grin plastered on his face for once. No swelling shadows dancing around him like ominous tendrils of smoke.

"You didn't tell them about your bargain with Yurghen." His brow furrows, something unreadable passing over his face. "About how you got your Chroma back," I clarify to his vaguely confused expression.

He tips his chin in understanding. "They didn't ask."

The space between us fills with a palpable energy, like we both want to say something, do something, but still ourselves. At least, I think that's what's happening. Maybe I'm misreading this whole situation. But…

"You tried to save me. When you thought Yurghen was here for me."

Tairyn is silent. His gaze locks onto mine, a haunted expression that has nothing to do with the bruises edging the corners of his eyes. Uncertainty pulses inside me, seeps around me until I'm idly scratching at my cuticles.

"I did," he finally admits with disarming sincerity, his voice low like he's whispering his deepest secrets into the dark. His lip is swollen, an angry split down the middle.

His admission makes the tension thicken, almost unbearably so, turning our conversation into a battlefield. Stalemate. I open my mouth to say something - anything, but no words come out. He seems to be waiting for me to speak, his gaze never leaving my face.

I swallow the lump that's formed in my throat. "Thank you," I mumble. My gratitude falls into the silence echoing around us.

When he doesn't say more, I turn to leave. My cheeks prickle with heat as I scurry away, but I can't fathom why. Maybe because I'm a coward for not saying how I feel. Maybe it's because I feel anything other than hatred for this man who took me captive.

Once out of his sight, I sprint down the torch-lit hallway, my boots thumping against the stone floor. The flickering light casts long, dancing shadows that seem to mock my urgency. I just need to find Bobble and Sunder. To see them. To hold them. Let them make the world feel safe and simple again, even if it's just for a minute.

Walking side by side, I can see they are deep in conversation. I don't even think they hear my approach. Sunder's deep voice reverberates ahead, a rolling thunder of discontent, while Bobble's softer, more soothing tones attempt to mediate.

"Talking to Cor'than is insanity," Sunder growls, his words slicing through the dense air like a blade.

"Peace, Sunder. We need allies, unpredictable as they may be." Bobble's tone is as steady as the earth itself.

I finally catch up, slipping between them and looping my arms through theirs. The tension between my shoulder blades eases away like mist in the morning sun. I can feel their presence sinking into me, warm and familiar, through the bond we share. It's been too long since I've felt this connection, this rightness.

"Cor'than is a mistake." Sunder glares ahead as if his gaze could burn holes through stone walls.

Bobble nods, but his amber eyes meet mine, glinting with a silent plea for understanding. "But he has resources that we lack."

"Let's shelf the Cor'than debate for now," I suggest, snuggling closer to the two pillars of strength on either side of me. My heart thrums in my chest, harmonizing with theirs. "We have more immediate matters to attend to."

"Like finding a bed big enough?" Bobble quips, his warm grin glowing like the sun itself.

"Preferably one that won't collapse under the sheer weight of your muscle, Bobble," I tease back, feeling lighter than I have in days.

Sunder huffs out something between a laugh and grunt, the sound rumbling through his chest like distant thunder. It's moments like these that make the chaos of Illuemera bearable. With each step, the bond pulses stronger, a reminder that no matter how strange this world gets, I'm not facing it alone.

My bedroom door creaks open, revealing my haven of plush pillows and a bed large enough to harbor a small army—or at least the bulky frames of Sunder and Bobble. The room is bathed in the warm glow of firelight, casting dancing shadows upon the walls that seem to beckon us into its embrace.

"Will this do?" I ask, my voice almost a whisper.

Bobble nods, his eyes scanning the space with an almost childlike wonder before they settle on Sunder. There's a tenderness there, a gentle shift in the way he holds his gaze just a fraction longer than necessary. It's the kind of look that speaks volumes without uttering a single word.

"More than," Sunder replies, but his attention isn't on the opulence of the chamber; it's fixated on me. His usual gruff exterior seems softened, edges smoothed by something warmer. His eyes flicker to Bobble, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

I can't help but grin as I look between them. They're different together now—caught in an orbit around each other that pulls them closer with each passing moment. Their feelings, raw and unspoken, hang between them like a delicate cobweb glistening with morning dew.

It's so clear to me, but do they see what I do?

"Seems like getting lost has its perks," I quip, trying to keep the mood light even as my heart swells at their closeness.

"Lost? We were never lost." Sunder's protest comes with an arm that snakes around my waist, pulling me a touch closer.

"Searching for you," Sunder starts, his voice trailing off as he glances down at Bobble. "It made me realize things. And appreciate them more."

I can't help but laugh at how Sunder that statement is. It's about as close to a declaration of love as he gets. My eyes find Bobble's and I can see the question, the uncertainty, in his gaze. I don't think he knows how Sunder feels. Sunder probably doesn't even know how Sunder feels.

"Like how annoying it is when someone steals your favorite weapon during sparring?" My playful lilt strikes like quick ribbing.

"Or how much you miss their incessant whining," Sunder says, a rare smile playing on his lips.

"Or maybe that grief can crack even the toughest exterior." Bobble's voice is softer, more reflective compared to our teasing banter.

"Who would've thought?" Smiling, I sense the bond between us, strong and pulsing with life—a threefold cord not easily broken.

"Who indeed," Bobble replies, and the look he shares with Sunder is one of mutual understanding. A pact sealed without words, forged in worry and solidified in relief.

"Guess we make quite the team, huh?" I say, the reality sinking in, leaving me dizzy with gratitude.

"Always have," Sunder says, and Bobble nods, their unity enveloping me in a warmth that has nothing to do with the fire crackling in the hearth.

"Always will," I echo, the truth of it resonating deep within my bones.

The crackle of the hearth fades to a whisper as Sunder's hands find the curve of my waist, a fierce yet tender touch that sends shivers cascading down my spine. "Gods I've missed you." His voice is a low rumble against my ear.

"More than anything," I breathe out, fingers tracing the inked lines on his arms, feeling the thrum of his pulse beneath my touch—a wild rhythm mirroring my own heart's dance.

Bobble steps closer, and the heat from his broad chest envelops me from behind. His breath tickles my neck, and I tilt my head to grant him better access, a silent invitation he accepts with a soft, exploring kiss.

"Good," he murmurs, and his hands join Sunder's in a symphony of caresses that weave a tapestry of sensation around us. The room spins. Or maybe it's just me—caught in the gravity of these two men who have become my guiding stars in this strange new world.

Our clothes fall away like leaves in fall, each piece discarded, bringing us closer to the raw honesty of skin on skin. I'm between them, a conduit of their burgeoning affection, the very air charged with the electricity of unspoken confessions and desires laid bare.

With every touch, every whispered name, we climb a crescendo that careens us toward oblivion. Sunder's mouth claims mine with a possessive hunger, while Bobble's hands map the landscape of my body with a reverence that borders on worship.

"God," I gasp as the world narrows to the here and now—Sunder before me, Bobble behind, our bodies a tangle of limbs and longing.

"Let go, Mira," Sunder urges, and his voice carries the weight of command and promise.

I surrender to them, to this moment, and the bond that ties us together blazes like a beacon in the night.

As their breathing evens out into the steady rhythm of sleep, I disentangle myself with the gentlest of movements. A glance at their entwined forms tells a story of unity and newfound tenderness; I leave them wrapped in the echo of our shared bliss.

Silently, I pad through the shadowed hallways, following the tug of Callum's intense presence. The bond pulls me onward until I find him, sitting alone in the private study where Tairyn and I spent the night playing chess, staring into the flickering embers of a dying fire. Evidence of the earlier violence, red blood against the white floor, is gone.

"Can't sleep?" My voice cuts through the silence, and he doesn't startle—Callum never does.

"Too much noise in my head," he admits without looking up. "And not all of is mine."

A stab of guilt darts through me. I didn't even consider him before running off with Sunder and Bobble. I glance at the floor, heat burning my chest.

"Want to talk about it?" I settle beside him, close but not touching.

He scoffs lightly, the sound carrying a hint of bitterness. "You don't like sharing," I venture, already knowing it's more complex than that.

"No, I don't." Finally turning to meet my gaze, there's a defensiveness to his words. "And I don't trust them. Any of them. Bobble, he's mostly fine, I suppose. But Sunder? He's a storm I can't predict. And Tairyn is worse."

I nod, a small part of me aching for the discord in our harmony. "I understand. They're strangers, but please try to give them a chance. Do you trust me?"

As I stare into his eyes, the intensity between us burning bright, images of him hovering over me flash into my mind. It's too far away now, too distant.

"Completely." His voice is flat, but there's an undercurrent of something else—a protective fervor.

"Even if you don't trust them, trust me," I say softly, reaching out to brush a lock of sandy hair from his eyes. "Change isn't always a bad thing."

"Maybe," he concedes, and there's a ghost of a smile on his lips. "But Sunder…I don't think I could ever trust someone that explosive. And don't even get me started on Tairyn. Seeing you protect him after everything he's done, Mira. It felt like a betrayal."

He looks away, unwilling to meet my eye. "You're not wrong. Tairyn is a bastard. But I've seen different sides to him too. It's hard to explain. I… Maybe I just have a soft spot for bastards."

I force a huff of laughter at my own joke, but it lands on deaf ears. My face falls, and I don't know how to make things right. With Callum. With Tairyn. Getting Sunder to agree to Cor'than. This is a fucking mess.

I drop my head into my hands, taking a deep breath to still the stirring thoughts of inadequacy. Someone else would know what to do. How to bring them together. Lisa would know how to bring peace.

Then Callum's hand in on my back, in a small comforting gesture. "We'll get through it," he says with the surety only Callum can muster.

But what if we don't get through it? What if Callum can't find his place with me here? What if he decides to leave after we deal with Yurghen, assuming we're successful?

As if reading my thoughts, his hands rub up and down my back as he says, "I'm not going anywhere, Mira. I'm here as long as you'll have me."