Page 40 of A Bond so Fierce and Fragile (Compelling Fates Saga #3)

Merrick

T here were so many versions of Lessia.

Merrick might have enjoyed meeting her beautiful eyes everywhere he turned if he hadn’t been so vigilant, thanks to the eeriness that layered all around them—that seemed as if it should mist the silver-mirrored water whirling beneath them, beside them, and above them.

Even his souls were quiet. Too quiet. So quiet that he tried to pull on his magic, let that sticky feeling coat his increasingly frosty skin. But there was nothing.

Merrick tried again.

Only emptiness met him.

The feeling was nothing like the Vincere’s effects: no pain, no magic fighting beneath the surface to escape the liquid’s hold.

But more like… it wasn’t there.

He snapped his eyes to Raine, stating what he suspected. “My magic doesn’t work here.”

Raine nodded, taking a step toward the still teary Frelina.

As Merrick’s eyes wandered over her face, the face so similar to Lessia’s but which didn’t evoke an ounce of the feelings that filled him when he met his mate’s warm gaze, he could tell she and Raine had had some kind of moment.

Raine’s cheeks looked suspiciously pale, the hands by his side too stiff, and Frelina didn’t bother hiding that she must have been crying her eyes out when he’d brought Lessia down into the ship.

Merrick had been worried about Lessia breaking down when he’d carried her inside as well, but she’d only asked to sit on the counter while she allowed him to heat her some soup to try to give some color to her ever-paling cheeks.

Merrick had felt her eyes on him the entire time, but when he finally met them…

they hadn’t been filled with the sorrow he’d gotten used to in the past days.

No, they had been filled with mischief, and when he’d frowned at her, she’d actually giggled before teasing, “I never thought I’d see the Death Whisperer cook for me. ”

He’d fought the smile tugging at his lips as he stalked up to her, trying hard to keep the scowl that used to feel natural, but that, whenever Lessia was in the room, was impossible to wear for long.

Placing his hands on her thighs, Merrick leaned in close. “I wouldn’t call heating up days-old soup cooking.”

Lessia leaned right back. “You’re feeding me, so I’d say it counts.”

He had to fight harder when her breath whispered over his mouth, her smile widening when his muscles coiled in response.

If she wanted to play…

He’d play.

Positioning his lips right over her own, so close their warmth mingled but they didn’t touch, Merrick whispered, “I’d do anything for you. Cook a whole feast if that’s what you want.”

He’d meant it to come out teasing, had dropped his eyes down to her lips when he spoke, but there must have been a note of vulnerability sneaking into the words. Vulnerability that he would allow only Lessia to see—to hear.

He would do anything for her.

Even if it damned killed him, he’d do it.

“I know,” she whispered back, pressing her lips softly against his. “That’s what kills me.”

He hated that the playfulness in her eyes wavered for a second—that those clouds he wasn’t used to made the golden flecks within them murky.

He’d promised himself to give her time. He’d promised himself to give her everything she wished for.

Merrick hadn’t trusted his words when he noticed her fingers trembling by her sides, so he let his lips and hands respond instead, preparing to make her forget all about any sadness he’d reminded her of when they’d sailed into this damned mirrored land.

Against Lessia’s protests, he’d stopped what he’d started, gently tugging her down from the table with a raspy promise that he’d get her up there later. Get her up there and fuck her until her back was raw from sliding against the wood.

She’d blushed at that, but her eyes had flared, that lightheartedness returning.

Something Merrick was grateful for as they ascended the stairs onto the deck again and stared at the mirrored world that was wrapped all around them.

Merrick shook his head as he stepped closer to Lessia when their ship slowed to a stop, the reflection of it—and them—shining everywhere.

He could still smell her arousal—that sweet, beautiful scent that told him she wanted him and only him.

She squeezed his arm, an amused tilt to her lips when she glanced up at him before shifting her gaze forward, meeting his eyes in the mirrored wall of water ahead instead.

“What happens now?” Lessia asked, and Merrick was proud of her for not whispering.

He somehow felt like they needed to be careful here, keep their voices low and not awaken whatever slumbered within the mirrored water facing them from all directions, so for her to speak so freely, so unafraid…

“How should we know?” Raine snapped, and Merrick sliced his eyes to his friend, his top lip curling back at his tone.

But he didn’t scold him, not when Lessia’s little sister had already stomped so hard on his foot that his friend snarled at her.

Merrick respected that she snarled right back, not backing down an inch when the massive red-haired Fae towered over her. The little Rantzier’s nostrils flared as she glared at Raine, but when she opened her mouth to tell the Fae warrior off, Lessia raised a hand.

“It’s fine,” she said softly. “It was a dumb question.”

A frown formed across Merrick’s forehead, and Lessia must have noticed it because she whispered under her breath, “He’s scared.”

Merrick’s brows lowered further as he moved his gaze from Lessia to Raine.

But she was right. It wasn’t just anger in Raine’s taut shoulders—in the sharp lines of his usually slack features. There was something in them that Merrick knew his friend had spent decades pushing down.

Something he was fighting for his life trying to keep at bay as he avoided the reflective surfaces with all his might.

Because, unlike the rest of them, Raine wasn’t looking around—his gaze remained locked on Frelina, who still glared at him.

She must have noticed what Merrick was last to figure out, though, as while her face was painted with defiance, her fingers brushed Raine’s when he couldn’t hide a shudder running through him, her other small hand lifting to shield his view of the mirrored wall closest to them.

Surprisingly, Raine didn’t back away.

He leaned into her instead. Like… she was comforting him.

Merrick dragged his teeth across his bottom lip as he turned to Lessia, who appeared to have been eyeing him while he watched them.

Somehow, he didn’t like what he saw in her eyes, especially not when a shaky smile lightened them as she moved her gaze to Frelina and Raine, who’d moved even closer now.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Merrick hissed. “There is no way.”

If he lost her, he’d never move on. There would never be someone who could comfort him. He’d been alone before her, and while he’d make sure there wouldn’t be an after her, there was no one else for him.

Lessia didn’t respond, but that brightness in her eyes remained.

Merrick opened his mouth to argue with her again—make sure she understood he’d never fucking move on from her, that he wouldn’t accept a life without her—when the walls of water around them whirled.

“Fuck,” he swore as he flung himself toward Lessia.

But it was too late.

It was as if the world around them liquefied, thick silver waves swallowing everything until they consumed him, wrapped him tight in a bright, cool blanket.

Merrick tried to swear again, but he couldn’t speak. He could only watch the strange blanket blur and dance and play before his eyes, holding his limbs hostage, until his head spun.

Blinking, Merrick pushed the fear, not for himself but for Lessia, away as he fought against the nausea and dizziness that seemed to want to pull him under, filling his ears with a buzzing that seemed somehow familiar.

He couldn’t allow it. He could feel that if he did, it would be over. How, he didn’t know, but a strange feeling raced over his skin, up and down his spine until his insides were as cool as whatever was wrapped around him.

Light exploded before his eyes.

The buzzing quieted.

And then the walls snapped back again, as still as they had been when they sailed in, his reflection’s slight distortion the only clue that it wasn’t true mirrors he was looking at or standing on.

Merrick was no longer on the ship. His dark boots were planted on the same strange lake that made up the walls ahead of him, behind him, and above him.

Wherever he turned, his own dark eyes stared back at him.

But they weren’t really his eyes…

No, when he looked closer, he could tell the silver in them was slightly off, his posture not as hostile as he knew it must look like right now, when he sensed the danger lurking all around him, when white-hot rage began burning within him as he realized Lessia was nowhere to be found.

“Where is she?” he snarled when one of the reflections raised an arrogant brow.

That’s your first question, Merrick Morshold?

The voice bounced all around him.

Within him.

Thrummed through his blood.

An urge to bow—to submit—washed through him, but he fought it.

He didn’t kneel to anyone but her.

He never had and never would.

“Where. Is. She?” he repeated, ignoring the last name he’d never claimed—that he’d never felt worthy of, after hearing the stories of his brave parents—his words so icy he almost expected a white cloud to leave his mouth after each one.

She is here.

His teeth snapped together with a sharp sound.

If the legends were true, the gods couldn’t lie.

“Is she safe?” Merrick didn’t react as one of the many reflections of him opened its mouth in a laugh, its eyes twinkling at him when he only stared at it.

She is safe here.

Here.

He didn’t like the sound of that.

“How can I always make her safe?” Merrick asked as he glanced down at the reflection beneath him.

Its face held pity, and he quickly looked up again.

He preferred the manic laughter to the sadness in those eyes.

You can’t.

The voice was matter of fact, void of feeling.