Page 41 of A Promise so Bold and Broken (Compelling Fates Saga #2)

Chapter Forty-One

L essia tugged Merrick’s hand as they walked the familiar streets of Asker, heads down and hoods up to avoid attracting attention from any of the townsfolk walking the streets.

Still, Lessia had to steal a peek at him—revel in how different everything was.

It wasn’t because she was hiding from Merrick that she now walked these streets with her cloak over her face and shoulders taut.

She couldn’t even fathom that there had been a time when she had.

When she’d been frightened of him…

Merrick’s eyes found hers, and when he arched a brow, she smiled at him and rushed her steps.

They should perhaps have slept—used the few hours remaining until Rioner showed up to gather strength—but she hadn’t been able to settle down after they’d talked through the plan a few more times as a strange, unfamiliar feeling began to fester within her.

Attributing it to all the risks and pitfalls that came with her perhaps not-so-thoroughly-thought-out plan, she decided she needed a distraction.

So while Loche went to find more of the liquid—which apparently was a version of Vincere the leaders of Ellow had gotten their hands on during the war and had refined until, undetected, it would suppress the abilities of Fae, neutralizing their advantage should the alliance break apart—and Kerym and Raine joined one of Loche’s guards to find any smaller weapons they could hide on their bodies, Lessia had asked Merrick to come with her to her old house.

He hadn’t asked why, and for that, Lessia was grateful.

She had no idea why she wanted—needed—to go there, but something within her urged her to see it, urged her to go back, especially if it was for the final time.

A hollow ache spread in her chest when they reached the metal door and a silky cobweb, glittering from the pearls of water stuck to it, covered the door handle.

She tried to remind herself that Loche had already sent for Amalise, Zaddock, and hopefully Ardow and Venko, who should be with them.

After he’d agreed to Lessia’s plan, they’d decided they could use reinforcement if anything went wrong when they met Rioner.

Especially if some of the older children joined them now that her own, Merrick’s, Raine’s, and Kerym’s magic was stifled.

Lessia tried to put the guilt of bringing them into this mess out of her mind when Merrick gently lifted the spider silk out of the way and with a firm press of his hand opened the creaking door.

She watched him as he surveyed the space—dark eyes trailing up the spiral staircase leading to the bedrooms, to the empty shelf hiding the hallway with the other bedrooms—the one that’d been filled with soft taps of feet as the children hurried into their rooms whenever they’d been out of bed later than they were supposed to—to the door beside the staircase, the one leading to her office.

“So this is your home?”

Merrick eyed her as she nodded, unable to speak due to the large lump bobbing up and down in her throat, and the slight smile on his face faltered.

“You miss it.”

There wasn’t any accusation in his tone, no sorrow at her missing a time when he hadn’t been in her life—at least not in the way he was now.

Lessia nodded again.

She did miss it.

So damned much.

Even if she’d been blood-sworn to Rioner the entire time she’d called this house home, living with that dark cloud over her head, it was the first time since she’d left her family that she’d been truly happy.

It was the place where she’d found a purpose—something to atone for the horrible thing she thought she’d done.

It was the place where she began trusting people again—where she’d dared let people into the shattered pieces that were her heart.

Merrick bowed his head—that awareness flashing in his eyes—and his lips lifted again.

“You’ll have that again.” He pulled her to him, and after placing a whisper of a kiss on her lips, he rasped, “Better. I’ll make sure you have it all. If you’ll let me.”

She smiled against his mouth. “I’ll let you do anything you want.”

Merrick blinked.

Then he claimed her lips with a fierce urgency that drove any lingering wistfulness from her mind.

She would have it again.

Better.

Because she’d have Merrick as well.

You and me.

It was as if his voice was forever embedded in her mind, and even when he kissed her senseless, his sharp teeth rasping against her skin as he moved down to her neck, she could hear it in every breath, in every moan, in every growl.

“Where?” Merrick’s arms wrapped around her, lifting her up, and she giggled at the wild look in his eyes as he scanned the house for a bedroom with the same seriousness as he usually searched for danger.

“My bedroom is upstairs, but…”

Merrick had started stalking toward the stairs but froze at the final word.

The worry in his eyes faded when she winked at him. “So impatient.”

Nuzzling his face into her neck, he growled softly. “Make fun of me again… and I might need to punish you.”

Her face heated, both at his words and at the sharp need that surged within her at the thought of him…

No.

Lessia swallowed.

She’d stopped him for a reason.

Merrick seemed to read her mind because he set her down again—even with the wildfire of silver glimmering in his eyes. “There is something you need?”

“Yes, I…” Lessia started walking toward the office. “I don’t know. Something was telling me to come back here.”

That feeling roiled within her again.

Urgent.

Impatient.

Needy.

Like a tap on the shoulder by a restless child.

You need to see.

She frowned as the feeling turned into a whisper within her mind, and her steps lengthened as she fixed her eyes down the dim corridor.

Merrick followed her down the hallway to the other side of the house, opening the door to the freezing office for her when they reached it, and she could sense him tensing when she passed him—whatever he picked up from her probably irking him as well.

While she strolled along the walls, dragging her fingers over the backs of the books lining every inch of the shelves, Merrick worked his magic on the fireplace, and soon the room glowed in soft gold and red tones, the heat spreading quickly within the small room.

As Merrick looked through some of the papers she’d left on her desk, Lessia’s eyes snagged on a leatherbound book.

But it wasn’t the intricate gold binding nor the thickness that caught her attention.

It was the crossed daggers—one with rubies decorating the hilt and the other with amber stones—carved into the bottom of the spine that had her sucking in a breath.

As she grasped the book, something ignited within her.

Something ancient waking her magic to life deep down inside, despite the Vincere-like liquid traveling her veins—something foreboding, something she couldn’t explain, telling her she needed to do this now.

Alone.

It was all she could do to clear her throat and shakily ask Merrick, “Could… could you get me some water?”

She didn’t dare turn around when she sensed him hesitate—certain he’d read too much into her surely blanched face and wary eyes.

“Please?” she whispered, and finally, she heard Merrick’s feet move toward the kitchen.

Still, she didn’t dare open the book until the stairs creaked, and she was sure he wouldn’t storm back in and interrupt.

With her heart in her throat, pounding so hard she had to blow out a few breaths to ensure she could still hear Merrick walking somewhere above her, she opened the book.

First, Lessia thought she must have made it all up.

It was a children’s book.

One she didn’t recognize but which must have been Ardow’s, since it came from the Fae.

The stories described in it were the ones her father had told her growing up.

Nothing in the book warranted the feeling tugging at her, the pages only filled with words and the odd drawing.

But as she leafed through it once more, she realized something was scribbled in the gutter on the last page, something that made her heart stutter in her chest as it caught her eye.

Her family name.

Lessia threw a glance behind her before tilting the book and reading the first paragraph as quickly as she could.

The Rantzier rule will end, its people disband, by the hands of the reluctant ally—the ally that should have stood by their side, that should have fought with them, that should have protected them. It’s the one loved by Fae and human, the one you may not slay for the war that fragile death would bring, who will finally bring the Rantziers to their knees.

It was the curse her father had already told them of, back on Raine’s island.

But unlike her father’s words, the prophecy didn’t end there… and tears burned behind Lessia’s eyes as she continued reading.

Surrendering it all, they will choose to perish with them.

For only in their ultimate sacrifice can a new world be born—the world they have dreamed of, battled for, and wept over.

Lessia read the last two lines over and over until the words blurred so much she couldn’t make them out anymore.

Numbness spread within her as she let the book fall to the ground.

The ultimate sacrifice.

That must mean…

As she swallowed hard, Lessia swatted at the book with her foot until it slid under the shelf it had been standing on.

She laughed hollowly.

The fucking gods.

They must have seen the one day she’d been happy despite everything they’d thrown at her.

The one fucking day.

Merrick’s smiling face, his bare chest, his heated eyes as his hands gripped her hips, danced before her own.

She felt like screaming.

Screaming so loud it might reach those damned gods wherever they resided.

Everything in her wanted to follow that book.

Hide somewhere no one could find her.

Fall into a heap of hopelessness.

Break apart, and let someone else take charge.

Let someone else try to take on Rioner.

Or perhaps just let him win…

Merrick would do it.

She knew she only had to ask, and he’d take her as far away from this realm as possible.

But when he walked into the room, his narrowed eyes trailing over her, she found that last bit of strength—the one that had helped her survive that day she thought she’d killed Frelina, the one that had kept her from giving up in Rioner’s cellars, the one that had forced her to continue moving after Loche banished her—and whirling so fast she knocked the glass out of his hand, she jumped up on him, slamming her lips against his with such a frantic hunger that he didn’t question her.

Instead, Merrick held on to her as he swept the paper from the desk behind them and laid her down on it.

Her fingers locked in his hair when he tried to pull back, and even though he could have easily untangled her hands—could easily overpower her—he didn’t.

Merrick let her lead.

As if he understood that she desperately needed to right now.

That she clung to any whisper of control she had left, refusing to listen to the voice inside her telling her it didn’t matter.

The gods had decided her fate anyway.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she dragged him down on top of her, kissing him harder, until they were a mess of heavy breaths and moans and need.

“Get them off,” she begged when his hands roamed over her, cupping her breasts, then moved down her stomach to tease the skin between her jacket and trousers, only to go back up again, making her squirm with want. “Please, Merrick.”

“Fuck. Say my name like that again,” he rasped as his fingers dug into her hips.

“Merrick,” she whispered. “Merrick, Merrick, Merrick.”

He responded with a growl, and her eyes flew open when his breaths hit her stomach as his teeth dug into the waistband, his hands leaving her heavy breasts to drag her trousers down to her knees as he moved to stand between her legs.

Merrick’s eyes met hers when he pushed her knees up, and she couldn’t look away as he slowly relieved her of the trousers, then removed her undergarments and gently nudged her legs farther apart by sliding his large hands down each of her thighs.

Lessia fought a shudder as the heat in his eyes mirrored that of her own body, and she wrapped her fingers in his hair again when he began kissing his way down her legs, the anticipation making them shake, nearly clamping around his face in her need for release.

She cried out when his mouth found its intended purpose.

His first touch wasn’t tentative—not even gentle—as if he knew exactly how much she needed to see those stars, and he swore something she couldn’t make out in the haze as he began devouring her.

Lessia arched off the table as his mouth closed on her, his tongue alternating between flicking and lapping, sliding over her until she cried out in pleasure at the perfect, aching sensation.

Her eyes shut when he growled against her, her legs shaking so hard Merrick’s hands flew up to steady her.

“More… I need…”

She wasn’t sure what she needed, the words jumbling within her mind.

Merrick knew, though.

As he drove his tongue deep into her, that heat racing up her spine turned into an inferno, her core throbbing so hard every breath leaving her turned into a moan.

And when Merrick’s teeth scraped against her sensitive bud, his tongue circling it after each bite as if to soothe it, the fire within her burned hotter, so hot that she pressed against him, pulling at his hair to get him closer—desperate for more.

And when he playfully moved to nip at her inner thigh, and the gentle bite turned into something more—a possessive, territorial marking that made them both swear loudly—the pain mingling with the desire drove every thought from her mind and pushed her over the edge.

As she convulsed beneath him, Merrick straightened from where he’d knelt before her, and she cried out again when he, in one fluid motion, escaped his own trousers and thrust into her, pressing her back against the table as he rolled his hips, stretching her so perfectly as he filled her that she couldn’t help but scream his name.

His lips brushed her ear as he drove into her, so deep that stars—like the silver flecks in Merrick’s eyes—danced before her closed ones once more, exploding into pure light when he whispered, “Mine. You’re. Fucking. Mine.”

Merrick held on to her as they both came down, and while he didn’t say a word when tears slid down her cheeks as she stared up at him—only swept them off with his thumb—she could tell he knew that she was hiding something.

That it hadn’t just been pure lust driving her to this.

As her eyes flitted between his, her harsh breaths the only thing reverberating around them, she wondered whether she should tell him.

Let him share the burden.

But then that crease she hated formed between his brows.

And she knew.

Merrick wouldn’t stop her.

He’d let her go through with this because he would never take her choice away.

Not like Rioner.

Not like Meyah.

Not like Loche…

Lessia pulled Merrick down again, hiding her scrunched-up face in his neck.

Telling him wouldn’t change what would happen.

So she didn’t.

Instead, she whispered, “You’re mine,” and clung to him with every nerve inside her aching and only one sentence echoing in her mind:

Please don’t be the last time.

Please don’t be the last time.