Page 62 of Between Despair and Hope

“Tell me. I need to know.”

He swallowed, his jaw tense, as if he didn’t want to continue. “The other three were from Folterra. Nor didn’t know them well. Corinn, Parah, and Louisa. Corinn had just given birth. It was her child Henny died to protect.”

I closed my eyes and gave in. Rain pushed my hair behind my ear, traced the skin of my neck and hovered his fingertips over my collarbone as I rode the wave of grief coursing through my body. He said nothing, and I was thankful for it. Nothing he could say would help. We both knew it was an accident. We both knew I’d done it to save him. I wondered if he asked for the names for himself just as much as he did for me.

“Do you want to know the names of the women you saved?”

I inhaled sharply, opening my eyes to stare at him. “Does that matter when I killed the others?”

“Yes. It matters to them, Em.” His hand cupped my face. “Every choice, every mistake, every movement has a consequence we can’t always foresee. The important part is doing what we can to sway the balance back. Nor lives because of you. Grace and Elsie live because of you. Ysrith and Lisette live because of you.” I sobbed as Rain continued. He named each woman and child we’d freed from Darkhold. Every single name, he told me. “You didn’t mean to save them. You didn’t mean to kill the others. But because of your choices, the balance swung towards goodness, and that’s all we can do, dear heart.” His hand slid down to my shoulder, and I wiped the tears from my face as I looked at him, his face earnest. “Thank you for saving us.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I blew out a trembling breath. When his lips pressed to my forehead, I swore I almost felt a spark. Heat tore through me, and that gods forsaken bond flared to life. The gesture was intimate, so close to his normal treatment of me, and I wanted to sink into it. But I couldn’t trust myself. Even now, I felt an ache between my legs, and I cursed the bond once more. The feeling juxtaposed with my sorrow was more than I could bear.

I was about to tilt my head and meet his lips with mine when his stomach growled, and he looked at me sheepishly, the seriousness of the moment interrupted.

“I had some soup earlier, and now my stomach wants to remind me I haven’t truly eaten in weeks. Would you like me to bring back something for you?”

I shook my head. I felt relief at the distance he put between us, while I felt utterly hopeless about the fact we needed it. Letting him bridge the gap between us was going to be a painful game of waiting. I was too heartsick and exhausted to eat, a point I proved the moment he left, crying myself back to sleep as soon as the door shut behind him.

It was dark in the room when I woke, and I couldn’t breathe. There was a pressure on my chest and around my throat, and I couldn’t understand what was happening.

“Rain!” My voice was a croak, harsh, because I could barely get any air with his hands wrapped around my neck. He was on top of me, naked, with his golden-brown skin on display and his lower half nestled between my thighs. But it wasn’t romantic. His touch wasn’t tender. He was squeezing tightly, his eyes glazed over.

“Not real. Not real. Not real,” he muttered to himself, looking down at my face with an expression of horror. The moonlight from the window shone on him, and I could tell he wasn’t truly awake. I slapped at his arms and his back with one hand, using the other to pry his from my neck. Despite my fear, my divinity relaxed before soaring into a frenzied buzzing. Almost sentient, the bond seemed happy it was about to be satiated, then annoyed when it didn’t happen.

My husband was choking me, and this stupid, insolent bond was pleased.

“Rain, stop! Me—” I gasped, trying to get a small breath and wheezing as I did. “It’s me.” He was squeezing so hard I knew I’d have bruises. He thought I was the shifter, and he was going to kill me like he did her. My vision blackened at the edges, and I dragged my fingernails down his back as hard as I could while bucking beneath him. I didn’t succeed at much. The blanket slipped off me as I wrapped my legs around his waist, and I tried to pull him off of me at the hips. I hoped the touch of our skin, naked flesh against naked flesh, and the call of our bond would help wake him. His body was warm as it pressed against mine. The weight of him was calming, even with his leaner form, his presence satisfying and everything I wanted. But the pressure around my neck hurt and sent me into a panic.

I closed my eyes and could feel the glow from those threads. He had to feel that. With the way he pressed down upon me, I couldn’t tell, but if the bond was doing to him what it was doing to me, I was sure I’d feel the evidence any moment. Perhaps it would be enough.

“Not my Emma. Not real.” His voice was louder now, and he squeezed harder.

Despite my vision suffering and the fear of imminent death, my divinity didn’t repel his violent and dangerous touch—it reveled in it. The bond clearly didn’t care. The bond wanted me to be with him, to renew it, to fix the golden string connecting our bodies. And I wanted it too. But I wanted to continue breathing more. I considered using my divinity on him, burning him to make him let me go, but I knew that wouldn’t help us. Knew that to hurt him physically would cause irreparable damage. I couldn’t hurt him. I couldn’t do what the shifter did to him. Never. As a very last effort from the precipice of death, I might have felt differently. But for now, I was taking small breaths, fighting against him with my arms, allowing myself to get the air I needed.

Feeling the insistent bond gave me an idea though, and not a second too soon. My limbs weren’t working as well, my body starved for air, and I was on the edge of passing out. Letting my eyes close, I reached out to those golden threads and plucked.

Rain froze.

He didn’t let go of me, but he stopped squeezing so hard. Taking deep, gasping breaths while I could, I stared up at him. His chest heaved for air too, a sheen of sweat covering his naked body.

“Not real. You aren’t real. Not my Emma.” He stared down at me, still holding my throat, but his hand relaxed. I took another quick breath as I watched his half-asleep mind struggle.

“I’m real, and I’m yours. It’s me, Rain.” Not knowing what else to do, fear still simmering under my skin, I plucked a thread and pushed my hips up toward him, and I felt him harden against me. His cock slid over my soaked flesh. He wasn’t immune to the pull of the bond, and clarity filtered into those pine-green eyes I’d sorely missed. I plucked the threads once more, and his touch on my neck turned gentle. He caressed me, staring at me with confusion as those golden threads vibrated. It was a loud buzzing in my mind, and all I could think about were his hands on my throat and him inside me. An image of him bending me over on the balcony crossed my mind, and I felt him stiffen even further. I wondered if he was imagining the same things.

“It’s you? My Em?” Rain tilted his head and spoke low. His anger and confusion turned into something almost animal. The bond rumbled in anticipation.

“Yours. Always,” I agreed. I had wanted to let him come to me, to ask for my touch, to crave it, but I couldn’t resist it. Resist him. The call of our bond was one I couldn’t ignore any longer. The pain in my stomach—lower—made me ache. I was sick with need. Unrelenting and thorough, it overwhelmed me. I loved it and hated it at the same time. I didn’t want this now, and yet I couldn’t fight it. I tried. Gods damn, did I try. But the bond wouldn’t let me. I needed him to fill me, to lay claim to me once more. He groaned, dropping his head next to mine, his breath in my ear.

“Em, are you sure?” I didn’t know what he was asking. Was I sure I was real, that I was his? Was I sure I wanted him? Both answers were yes. He lifted his head to look at me, eyes boring into my very soul—awake.

“Yes,” I whispered. He sighed, keeping his hand on my throat even as he lowered his body to mine, the heavy weight of him pressing us together so there was no space between us. I wasn’t sure if he thought he was protecting himself or not, with his fingertips on my pulse, but I didn’t blame him. “Areyousure? Are you awake?”

“I’m here. It’s you, Em. Really. I’m so fucking sorry.” I shushed him, humming in pleasure as his length pressed harder against my tender, delicate heat. Sliding against my slick skin, I was already wet and ready. I blamed the bond, but it didn’t matter. I wanted him more than I knew what to do with myself. “Please?” he asked, and I nodded, pulling him closer and notching him at my entrance. The thick tip of his cock pushed into me, and we both moaned, the pressure and stretch a pleasant pain. He froze just inside me and allowed me to adjust, patient and careful even now. He’d released some of the tension in his hand on my throat but still had me in his grip, and I reached up with my own, covering his, interlacing our fingers over my neck.

He pushed deeper, his hips flexing. They were bonier and almost hurt as he pressed against me, and my heart broke once more. He pulled back before slamming into me, hard, and I cried out his name. He felt huge inside me, filling up every empty part of me. Making up for the lack of him and doing it with a violent precision which should have frightened me. But I’d never been scared of him, even at his worst. He was my safety and my wild. He was my home. He wasmine.

I was so prepared for him, greedy, and I wrapped my legs around him once more. I had closed my eyes when he first entered me, but I opened them to find his gaze elsewhere. He leaned down, his lips an inch from my collarbone. His hand finally left my throat, and he slid both arms beneath me, coming up my back and hooking his hands over my shoulders, using the position to pound into me harder and faster. Every thrust was punctuated with a whisper.

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