Page 150 of A Bond so Fierce and Fragile

One that she hoped would turn into another great friendship before her life was over, and another… another that she pinched herself every day to make sure it was real.

Merrick was…

She couldn’t help the smile breaking out across her face as she thought of the Death Whisperer, the Fae everyone feared, who was grumpy and broody and sharp but who stared at her like she was his sun, his only reason for waking up every day.

The Fae who drove her mad with desire every time his fingers found a bit of her naked skin.

The Fae who whispered his own dreams to her when he thought she was sleeping.

She’d almost thought she’d dreamed it the first time. But the night after, when her breathing had slowed after Merrick had exhausted her with every perfect thrust of his hips and lap of his tongue, he’d held her against his chest and told her their story.

The one where they hosted everyone they knew at a mating ceremony.

The one where he asked for her father’s hand like humans did and dropped to a knee before her, begging her to also marry him when she laughed at him, since it had only been days since their formal mating.

The one where she carried his children while he built them all a home on the island she’d grown up on, making sure they all knew of Alarin, their brave grandfather, who’d died to ensure they could be born.

She’d dreamed of it every night after that. Of silver-haired children running through the tall grass of her childhood home, exactly like she had done. Of a sweaty, smiling Merrick coming into a stone cabin for dinner, lifting her and settling her on the table before kissing the life out of her. Of late nights before a sparkling fire and summer days on the cliffs and winter rides through the forest.

It was what made her keep smiling throughout the day when other thoughts—the ones far more threatening—claimed her mind.

Even if that smile wasn’t exactly her regular one.

It was strange, the happiness of what could have been—a future she could nearly taste but would never realize.

She knew they all saw through her new smile, but the fact that they didn’t call her out on it made her love them even more.

Ydren jerked beneath her, and Lessia snapped her head forward when a low rumble racked the wyvern’s strong body.

Her eyes rounded as she beheld the scene ahead.

Thirty or so of Ellow’s warships stood side by side before an impossibly steep, dark cliff—one that reminded her of those skirting Korina. There were several inlets in the cliff, making this side of the island look almost like a comb, with tall ebony teeth shooting up from the water.

In front, twenty feet or so ahead of the others, Loche’s ship proudly floated, the sail that bore his own symbol, the one he’d apparently only raised the day he was elected six years ago, stark against the dark island.

The mark was fitting, Lessia thought as she nudged Ydren to bring her back to the ship.

Almost the shape of a heart, it had what looked like a bolt of lightning splitting it, tearing the two sides apart. Only a small piece at the bottom sealed them together, fighting to keep each side from tumbling away from the other.

“Stay with the other wyverns when I am not around,” she ordered Ydren as Merrick reached out his arms to help her onto what had once been Rioner’s vessel, which she now claimed as her own. “I doubt the humans will know what to make of you.”

With a hiss that Lessia hoped was agreement, Ydren dove into the dark water just as Lessia jumped, right into Merrick’s arms.

His lips tickled her ear as he held on to her far longer than needed, and she blushed when he whispered, “If you continue to tire yourself from riding her all day, I might begin to get jealous. I’d much prefer to be the one you have those beautiful legs wrapped around.”

She went to peck him, but Merrick captured her lips in a more passionate, deeper kiss than she’d expected, and she was slightly lightheaded when he finally set her down.

Swatting at him when she noted the smirk on his face, she finally turned back to the group of people who had begun gathering in the bows of every ship.

Lessia knew exactly why Merrick kept his hand sliding up and down her back as rows and rows of humans glared at them as they sailed up to the ship where Loche stood in the front, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun setting behind them.

Chapter 32

Loche

The damned wyvern.

Of course she’d come riding in on it.