Page 50 of A Bond so Fierce and Fragile

He could almost hear the pain she must be in, and it wasn’t just physical, judging from the streaks breaking up the blood and dirt on her face.

But itwasLessia who slowly made her way across the ship’s deck. It was the female who’d stormed into his life and within a moment—a single second—had turned it upside down, had shifted it into something he could never have seen coming.

Not that he’d change a thing.

He loved her.

Utterly and completely.

With every dark corner of his mind and heart.

Even the souls loved her after watching her for so long together with him.

She was everything that mattered.

Another gust of wind brought her scent to him, and the urgency intensified, creeping up his neck.

“Go!” he roared when Ydren hesitated.

After the beast shared a look with Raine, she cried out, one of the battle cries that sometimes echoed within Merrick’s nightmares from battles fought long ago, and with a jerk that had Ardow nearly fly off again, the wyvern set off toward the vessel.

It appeared that the ship’s occupants didn’t hear the cry, or at least Lessia didn’t, as she continued her excruciatingly slow walk while the wyvern navigated the tough waves, diving and jumping and swimming atop them whenever needed.

Merrick still held on to the neck of Ardow’s jacket when they neared, and he didn’t even bother asking the male before he flung him off the wyvern onto the deck, where he tumbled into a heap of body parts.

Following as swiftly as he could, Merrick pushed off Ydren’s body, not giving a shit about her grumble of protest as he threw himself onto the ship.

His landing was better than Ardow’s—the man was still struggling to get to his feet—and after one roll, Merrick stood straight on the ship, his perked ears picking up on the footsteps nearing the corner, his eyes glued to the frightened ones of his mate.

She stilled when she found his gaze, blinking a few times.

Then she blinked again, her pale face crinkling.

“Hi,” he whispered when she only continued staring at him, tears filling her beautiful amber eyes, but he couldn’t take it anymore when her bottom lip began trembling.

Sprinting the three or so steps he needed to reach her—three steps that still seemed too many—he tugged her against his chest, careful not to hurt her further, even though the only thing he wanted to do was tuck her into him, find a way to hide her away from this cruel world.

She shook in his loosely encircling arms, but when she pressed harder against him, he locked his arms tighter, resting his chin on her bloodied hair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he noted how Raine elegantly landed on the wooden planks before pulling Ardow into an upright position, each drawing his sword from his back as the rhythmic thumping of steps rang louder.

“I’m so sorry,” Merrick echoed, the words seemingly the only ones he could utter as he tried to keep his voice from sharpening when his eyes rushed across her body and he noted the scratches, the burns, the carved marks on her back—his own fucking name, for gods’ sake—the broken hand and the bloodied one, and the deep cut she still bled from on the back of her head.

Still… he could tell those weren’t the worst wounds.

When Lessia tilted her head upward, he nearly crumbled right there and then.

The Death Whisperer thought he’d known horrible, agonizing pain.

He’d seen it in war after war, after all. In the souls that passed on but didn’t find rest. In his brothers and friends.

But this…

What filled his mate’s beautiful eyes…

There wasn’t a word for it.

No human or Fae language could ever come near describing what she was feeling.