Page 93 of A Sword of Ice
She pushed out a breath and her trembling fingers reached up to graze the edges of those scars. They bisected down his neck, disappearing into the collar of his jacket. So many littered his body like the pathways on a map. He’d suffered so much. Too much.
She couldn’t fathom it.
“When will you stop punishing yourself for what happened to Mairin?” she asked, her whisper almost harsh, angry.
He didn’t like to talk about Mairin. It had been months before he’d even confessed who she was to Shula, and within the same expanse of breath he used to explain his sister, he’d told Shula she was his mate and that he didn’t want her.
Things changed since then. Because now she knew that he did want her, just like she wanted him. They craved each other so much it physically hurt. Sometimes she was still unsure if it was desire and love or pure hatred that tethered them together.
Ryker’s displeasure at her question reflected in the pulling together of his brows. He grunted, clasping his fingers over Shula’s to keep her hand right where it was. As if her touch brought him comfort.
They hadn’t really touched much. She’d been avoiding him ever since their last painful encounter. When she’d told him they were a mistake. She didn’t know if she still felt that. Her brain was still too clouded with the terrifying image of him falling to the ground and not waking up again.
“I’m not,” he all but growled, his voice rumbling against the pulse at her wrist.
Shula fought back a shiver. “Are you sure about that? Because you keep putting your own life in jeopardy to save others regardless of what it does to you.”
His touch against her softened as did his expression. “Contrary to what you might think, I do not wish to leave this life yet.” He paused and brought her fingertips to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to each one. “I do not wish to leave you.”
The sting of tears fell past her eyes and down her cheeks. He reached his hand up and caught a drop with his scarred fingers.
“What Iona said—” She broke off, sucked in a breath. “WhatIsaid before…”
Ryker grunted as he sat up, startling his familiar and making her hiss. Shula widened her thighs, and he pulled her towards him so she straddled his lap. Her thighs hugged his waist and his hands spanned across her lower back, keeping her pressed tightly to him.
“You were right,” he said.
Shula blinked.
“Maybe we weren’t ready for this.” His eyes dipped between them. As if the bond that now interconnected them were somehow a visible thing. “Maybe we were just too fucked up to start something real. Maybe we never properly healed our own damaged minds like we were supposed to first.”
Those were words Shula had more less told him before. But hearing him confirm it made her heart ache, because they were words she wasn’t ready to hear, even if she needed to hear them. She wasn’t ready for what would follow.
Her hands pressed against his chest and traveled lower, over his abdomen where she was sure if she would lift his clothes up, she’d find a brand new scar marring his skin.
“I’m not sure I can ever be what you want, Shula.” He rubbed slow circles against her back, like that could somehow soften the blow.
Tears gathered against her eyes. How sad was it that they just found each other and now it felt like they were oceans apart? Their bonds were crumbling between them like the ashy remnants of her parents. Like the ash of everything Shula had ever destroyed in her life.
His fingers gripped her chin and forced her gaze up to his when she hadn’t even notice she looked away.Eyes on me,he seemed to say. “But I want to be what youneed, Shula.” Her heart thundered. “We can heal apart, and we can heal together. It does not matter, but Ineedyou more than I need air to breathe, more than I need the magic in my soul.”
Her bottom lip trembled, and he traced it with his thumb. She leaned into the touch. “I need you, too.”
She never realized how true those words were until she said them. They surged from her soul and back through them again, resonating deep in her bones. Not only did she need him, but she wanted him. Scars, temper, and all.
“If we want to heal, we need to be clear with one another, Shula. No more guessing, no more dancing around words. If you need something from me, you tell me. If I piss you off, tell me why. I did not choose to bond with you lightly. I want this to work, but we have to be honest with each other.”
In response, Shula pressed her forehead to his, his scars scraping against her smooth skin, his beard tickling her chin.
“I want that,” she whispered. “Ineedthat.”
He gifted her with one of his rare smiles right before he pressed his lips to hers. It was quick and chaste, and she didn’t let it go further because she pulled away with a frown.
“Don’t do that again.”
“But—”
She pressed her finger to his lips, shutting him up. “It’s my turn to speak. You said we need to be honest. I don’t like when you heal others in that capacity.” Her fingers touched the edges of his scars. “What if you can’t recover from the next wound? How much longer can your body handle being broken and in pain before it gives out? It can’t happen, Ryker. Promise me.”
