Page 41 of When the Wicked Sing
The pain ripped her apart again, her heart aching as though she was experiencing the same moment by the river all over again.
“My tail, my tail,” she wailed. Squeezing her eyes shut, she begged for the Goddess to give her back her siren form. Give her back the part of her that made her whole.
She couldn’t stay like this. She couldn’t survive it.
Then, warm hands were pulling her forward, forcing her to let go of her hair, and a warm chest met her cheek as she sobbed.
Mariana gripped Dax’s shirt tight, and something inside her said she was safe. Safe to feel the betrayal. Safe to feel the heartbreak.
Her mind was a savage hurricane beating at every vulnerable part of her, leaving her ruined, destroyed.
Celeste’s comforting smile broke through the storm, and yet it did nothing to dampen the violent waves of agony drowning her.
“Celeste,” she whispered. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision, she could see her friend as clear as day in her mind.
The crushing heartbreak of losing someone who had been a part of her family, someone who had cared for her through it all, who taught her how to walk, who listened and always pushed her to be the best version of herself—it was killing her. Celeste had been the mother she never knew she needed until that day on the beach when they found each other. And now she was gone.
Mariana pushed her face into her fists, willing her sobs to stop. But she missed her home, she missed her sisters, and seeing Celeste in that dream only made the terrible truth that much harder to accept.
“Shh, you’re alright. It’s okay, you’re safe,” Dax said softly in her ear, and her heartbeat began to slow along with her tears.
Breathing deep, she felt herself calming down. After a moment, she pulled back, wiping her face. She couldn’t believe she’d lost control of herself like that. Dropping her hands, she looked anywhere but at the fae beside her, embarrassment heating her already warm cheeks.
“Umm,” she started, peeking at his soaked chest, “sorry about that.”
Dax shrugged. “Nothing to be sorry for.”
They sat in silence long enough that Mariana began to fidget uncomfortably.
Then, Dax cleared his throat and stood. “I’m sure you’d appreciate some space. When you’re ready to get out, you can wear the robe beside the tub, and the bed is yours. There’s food on the table if you’re hungry.”
Mariana glanced up at him, and all she could bring herself to do was nod.
“I’ll be right outside if you need me,” Dax said over his stiff shoulder as he approached the door.
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
Her question made him pause with his hand on the knob and turn around.
He smirked, leaning a shoulder against the door frame and folding his arms over his chest. “Why? Miss being tied up and called Little Tempest?”
Mariana glowered at him, letting her eyes answer that insulting question.
Dax shrugged, looking anywhere but at her. “I don’t like seeing people in pain. With lives as long as ours, horrors are inevitable, things our minds can barely understand.” He shifted his weight and cleared his throat. “Watching you drown in those horrors … It bothered me.”
Her gaze softened. “Because you couldn’t stop it?”
“Because no one should have to go through it alone.”
Mariana bit the inside of her cheek and had to look away, either to keep herself from smiling or because she was afraid to say something she’d regret.
Dax confused her. He wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met before, and the way her body seemed to gravitate toward him bothered her. She didn’t want to like him, but some part of her did.
She sighed. “Please don’t leave.” Peeking up through her lashes at him, she met his eyes and decided to be honest. “You’re right; I don’t want to be alone.”
Chapter 22
Daxlingeredinthedoorway, hands flexing at his sides, unsure what to do. For two days, he’d been caught in the same rhythm—moving Mari between the warm tub and the bed, just as Spiro instructed. The healer checked in periodically, ensuring Mari was stable and Dax had eaten. Even Kenna had made a few appearances—once with fresh clothes for Mari, and twice to give Dax grief. Not that he’d ever admit he’d missed her sharp tongue.
