Page 57 of Claws and Effect (Paranormal Dating Agency #87)
FIFTY-SIX
T he space had transformed during her hospital stay. Where Zyle’s bedroom had once been meticulously masculine—all dark woods and leather—subtle touches now softened the space. Her favorite throw draped across the end of the bed; books she’d mentioned enjoying filled a previously empty shelf; a landscape painting she’d admired in his mother’s home now hung on the wall.
He had prepared for her return, created space for her in what had been solely his domain. The gesture touched her more deeply than any grand romantic gesture could have.
Zyle set her gently on the edge of the bed, his movements careful despite her almost-healed state. He knelt to remove her shoes, the domestic intimacy of the action bringing a lump to her throat.
“You’re being ridiculous,” she said softly, no heat in the words. “I’m not made of glass.”
He glanced up, those intense eyes holding hers. “Humor me. I spent three days watching you in a hospital bed. I need this.”
The honesty in that admission silenced any further protest. Laykin reached out, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertips, feeling the slight roughness of stubble beneath her touch.
“Did you know?” she asked quietly. “About our early mate recognition?”
Surprise flickered across his face. “Your parents told you?”
“Just before we left.” She studied his expression. “When did you find out?”
“The day of the assembly just before you were attacked.” He moved to sit beside her on the bed, close enough that their shoulders touched. “She handed me my father’s journal where he wrote that he wished I would finally reconnect with you, my mate. Mom mentioned how I refused to leave your cradle when I was young, apparently growling at anyone who came too close.”
“Including my father,” Laykin added, smiling at the image of a small boy challenging the king.
“So I’ve been told.” A rare, self-deprecating smile crossed his face. “Hard to imagine I’d forget something like that.”
“You were a child,” Laykin reminded him. “And I was an infant. Neither of us could have understood what it meant.”
“But our families did.” There was no accusation in his tone, only contemplation. “They arranged everything—the prides joining, the supposed crisis with your sister, all of it to bring us together without directly telling us why.”
“They manipulated us,” Laykin said, the lingering irritation surfacing briefly. “Managed us like pieces on a chessboard.”
“Does that bother you?” His question held genuine curiosity.
Laykin considered it, sorting through her complicated emotions. “It should,” she admitted. “Being tricked doesn’t sit well with me.”
“But?”
She pulled gently at his shoulder until he complied, stretching out beside her on the bed. His arm encircled her waist as she settled against his chest, careful to avoid the still-healing wounds on his torso.
“But I can’t stay angry when I think about where we’ve ended up,” she confessed, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear. “If they’d told me I had a fated mate, I would have rejected the notion outright. I would have insisted on making my own choice based on what benefited the pride.”
“And missed this,” he murmured, his breath stirring her hair.
“Exactly.” She turned her face up to his. “I needed to discover you on my own terms, to choose you for myself before knowing fate had already chosen for us.”
His free hand came up to trace the curve of her cheek, his touch reverent. “I’m glad they tricked us,” he said with characteristic directness. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it now.”
The simple declaration warmed her from within, more powerful for its honesty than any flowery sentiment could have been.
“I love you,” he added, the words emerging as if they had always been there, waiting for the right moment to be spoken aloud. “Not because fate decided it but because of who you are now—the woman who fights like a warrior and leads like a queen, who makes me laugh and challenges me to be better.”
Emotion tightened Laykin’s throat, making speech difficult. She reached up, her fingers threading through his hair to draw his face down to hers.
“I love you too,” she whispered against his lips. “And while I’m not about to tell my parents I’m glad they manipulated us, I am grateful they brought you back into my life.”
Their kiss held tenderness rather than passion—a gentle affirmation of the bond they’d discovered, rediscovered, and chosen for themselves despite destiny’s hand in bringing them together.
When they separated, Zyle kept her close, his arm a reassuring weight across her waist. “What happens now?”
Laykin settled more comfortably against him, content in a way she’d never imagined possible. “Now we build something that’s ours—not just following fate’s script or fulfilling our parents’ plans.”
“I like the sound of that,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.
Outside, the sun began its descent behind the mountains, painting the sky in shades of amber and gold.
The journey had brought her full circle—from reluctant royal fulfilling her duty to a woman who had found in an arranged match what many searched a lifetime for: a partner who matched her strength, challenged her mind, and cherished her heart.
Fate, it seemed, had known what it was doing all along.