Page 52 of Heart Cradle (The Melrathen Saga #1)

Maeve’s breath came in ragged gasps as the dream twisted around her, darker and more vivid than ever before.

The familiar feeling of terror crept in, crawling from her chest to her throat.

She was back in London, in her flat with the thieves.

Their faces, still too fresh in her mind, mocked her from the depths of the nightmare.

They hadn’t been masked, she remembered every one of them.

Their eyes, their smirks and the cruelty in their movements.

She’d begged them to stop, but they hadn’t.

She remembered the blowtorch, the cord and the fire.

The terror.

The pain.

Tears stung her eyes, but she couldn’t wake up, couldn’t escape.

Her skin still burned, her chest still tight and the blowtorch’s searing heat lingered like an echo in her bones.

The sting of the cord, their laughter and the sharpness of the blade sinking into her skin.

Her vision dimming, then suddenly, a cold chill followed by warmth.

A steady, familiar pressure on her hand, the nightmare was ripped from her, and she jolted awake, gasping for breath, a cry half-formed in her throat.

Her heart pounded in her chest, panic swirling in her mind, and then that warmth held her.

It was real, a familiar arm wrapped around her, pulling her close, tethering her.

Eiran.

His presence filled the room like a calming force, his breath soft and steady against her ear. “Maeve,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

She felt the subtle shift of his body as he stirred at the sound of her panicked breathes. “Love, you’re home.” Eiran said with more clarity, his hand squeezed hers gently, offering something tangible.

Still caught between the nightmare and the waking world, she whispered, “I thought I was with Cira?”

“I carried you here,” Eiran’s voice stayed steady, warm even in the dark. “We couldn’t both fit on the infirmary bed and I can’t sleep without you beside me.”

Maeve managed a soft, exhausted smile, turning her head to kiss his forehead, her fingers trembling as they brushed his skin. She was still trying to shake off the lingering panic. “You’re bloody mad,” she muttered, filled with the tenderness of their bond. “Too persistent for your own good.”

Eiran chuckled, nuzzling her hair. “Only mad for you,” he said, smugly. “And yet here you are, letting the madman warm your feet.”

She said nothing, still reeling from the nightmare, trying desperately to still her anxiety and his voice changed, concern creeping in. “Maeve… what’s wrong? Was it the painstone? A nightmare?”

The word nightmare settled between them like a heavy weight.

Maeve inhaled shakily, trying to steady herself, but the memory of what she’d seen, the brutality, the fear, still hung in her chest. The thieves, the gang…

they’re still free,” she said softly. “We never found them. They’re still out there.

And I…” Her voice faltered, the anxiety rising again.

“I don’t know how to be… not with that hanging over me. Even here, even with you.”

Eiran’s grip on her tightened. His expression darkened, eyes burning with a fury she hadn’t seen before.

The warmth around her grew as their bond flared with his anger, a fire that reached deep into her heart.

“We will find them, love,” he said, voice low and lethal, like the rumble of distant thunder.

“Once Vargen is subdued, I swear to you, we’ll go to Earth.

We’ll find every last one of them and then you can watch as I kill them. Every single one.”

Maeve’s chest tightened. She shook her head, pushing away, but reaching for his hands. “No,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You can’t. That’s… that’s… not right.”

“I would slaughter armies for you.” Eiran’s eyes narrowed, jaw set with resolve. “I’ll make them pay for what they did. I’ll burn the world down if I have to. No one, absolutely no one, hurts you and lives.”

His hands gripped hers fiercely, and for a moment, the fury in him felt like it could consume them both. Her heart ached with a deep, desperate need for peace. She smiled, despite the ache. “You are actually fucking mad, Eiran. You know that?”

“Of course I do,” he said with a half-grin. “I make up for it in looks though.”

“I should stop you but I can’t, Eiran. I want them dead… I need my peace. I need it more than any justice.” Maeve said.

“And that’s exactly what we’ll do, love.” Eiran leaned down and brushed his lips against her nose, the tenderness enough to melt the edges of her fear. “We’ll make them pay with their lives, and you’ll have your peace. I swear it.”

She closed her eyes, the weight of his words settling in her chest like a comforting blanket. “Promise me something,” she said softly, voice barely a whisper.

“Anything,” he responded instantly, his hand cradling her face, thumb brushing her cheek.

“When we do this,” she said, voice trembling, “don’t let me forget that I’m with you, that I’m not alone in this. That we’re doing this for us.”

Eiran kissed her forehead, a promise in the gesture. “I’ll never let you forget. You’ll never be alone again. I swear it, love.”

Maeve leaned into him, letting the quiet of the night surround them as she pressed her cheek to his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

For now, this, this moment, was enough. With a smirk, Eiran added, “You know, it’s bizarre.

You were almost murdered yesterday by an army of angry fae, and here you are, acting all concerned that I might go too far. ”

Maeve let out a small, exasperated laugh. “That’s different,” she said, lifting her head. “That was war.”

Eiran raised a brow, grin widening. “War? A few cranky fae and an army? That’s just a regular Tuesday.”

“Hmm.” Maeve rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. “When you put it that way, it does sound a little ridiculous.”

His grin softened, but the intensity in his eyes didn’t fade. “And it’s not ridiculous for me to want to burn the world down for you?”

She sighed, her voice soft but steady. “Of course not. But I think we can hold off on the world-ending vengeance for now, don’t you?”

Eiran’s grin turned wicked. “Only because you said so.”

Maeve reached up, cupping his cheek, her eyes full of love and fire. “You’re impossible. Bloody mad and impossible.”

“Yes,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her. “But you like it.”

“I love it, actually,” she breathed, as their lips met.