Page 194 of A Bond so Fierce and Fragile

Chapter 44

Merrick

He had no fucking clue what he was doing.

Still, Merrick followed the feeling roiling within him, all the while making sure his grip on Lessia never loosened, because he knew if he lost her in… whatever this damned darkness that enveloped them was… there was no finding her again.

The sensation within him was so strange. There was happiness, yes, near euphoria at feeling Lessia’s hand in his own. But something else also whirred through his veins. A strange emptiness that also made him feel complete.

An awareness that began as soon as he gave up all grip on his magic and let those souls break down the barrier between their worlds entirely.

He’d cut a deal. If they let him over to the dead’s side, he’d let them roam free.

Merrick had no idea what they would come back to, but his words to Kerym had been true.

He didn’t care as long as Lessia was with him.

If they were all dead… if she’d hate him for it…

Then so be it.

A small light shone ahead, one that got bigger and bigger the more Merrick let that feeling that pulled deep within his gut reign.

Lessia moved closer to him, and he switched his grip on her, keeping one arm over her shoulders and the other hand holding on to her small one, somehow knowing that a force would try to rip them apart, keep her from the land of the living, as the gods had meant it to be.

Fuck the gods,Merrick thought again as he began fighting his way through the thickening darkness, nearly dragging Lessia with him until the light flickered teasingly before them.

Who’d decided that they could set the rules? They fucked them all over, again and again, and he wasn’t about to let them get away with it.

With a growl that made the shadows shake around him, he forced a foot through the light, pushing Lessia ahead as he grasped the edges, and even as he felt blood begin rushing from his nose, he pressed on. Fought and shoved and tore at the bright hole until it snapped open and they tumbled right into blinding brightness.

It took a few moments for Merrick to get his bearings, but when he did, he realized he was still on the floor, Lessia in his lap, and the others in the mourning positions they’d been in before, albeit their faces more terrified and shocked than grief stricken.

Merrick’s heart pounded as he looked down at his mate, but there wasn’t even a question as her eyes flew open and she reached up to kiss him, her lips so demanding he groaned right into them before kissing her in return.

Merrick shook his head as he pulled back, but he couldn’t look away from Lessia, needing to see her take a breath as the dagger fell to the floor as if it had never cracked through her ribcage, needing to see her smile back at him, needing to see her look around in wonder at their friends.

It wasn’t until all color drained from her face that he tore his eyes away, fear clutching around his heart like the shadows had pressed on them before, and for the first time in his life Merrick was stunned into silence when he followed Lessia’s gaze, hearing her trembling question, “Who… who are they?”

All around them, people knelt.

But they didn’t look like their friends, who stood dispersed amongst the thousands upon thousands of kneeling bodies—the ones that floated over the sea, in the air, all around them.

They were shadows—ghosts, wraiths… Souls.

Not a word passed the Death Whisperer’s lips, not even when Soria and Pellie each dropped to a knee as well, their eyes as wide as his own, and the witch sisters whispered as one, “And so a soulbinder shall help her rise to take her throne—her right as a veiled queen.”