Page 46 of Returned to the Vissigroth (The Vissigroths of Leander #6)

I could hardly believe my luck.

It had been a damn miracle when I won Daphne the first time. That she would bind herself to me a second time—freely, fiercely, without memory, and still choose me—was beyond anything I could have ever dared hope for.

When I woke the next morning with her in my arms, I felt like I might explode from everything inside me. Relief. Awe. That quiet kind of joy that doesn’t shout, but hums in your chest like a sacred drum.

She was tucked against me, her bare skin was warm where it pressed against mine, her breath soft and even against my throat. My arms were wrapped around her instinctively, like my body had remembered this hold long before my mind could catch up.

I didn’t dare move.

For the longest time, I just lay there. Barely breathing. Afraid that if I stirred too much, she might vanish like mist. Or worse—wake up, look at me, and realize this wasn’t what she wanted. That I wasn’t what she wanted.

That fear, raw and primal, crept under my skin like frost. It didn’t belong to a warrior or a vissigroth. It belonged to a man who’d already lost her once, and who knew the gods weren’t always generous twice.

But then she shifted.

Not away—but closer.

Her leg curled over mine. Her hand slid up my chest, her fingers splayed over my heart like they belonged there. And gods help me, I think they did.

A shaky breath escaped me. My grip tightened just enough to anchor us both, and I let my lips brush the crown of her head. Her hair smelled like crushed wildflowers and a memory I hadn’t dared reach for in years.

She didn’t wake.

And I didn’t explode.

But I did start to believe—for the first time—that this might be real. That she was mine. Again.

Still.

Always.

A content sigh escaped her, her eyelids fluttered open, and I stared at the most amazing sight in the entire universe. Her green eyes looked up at me with wonder and love. A smile curved her lips when our gazes met, a smile that lit up her entire face. "Good morning."

"Good morning," I replied with the human greeting. I knew she didn't remember, but this was how it used to be for us—waking and staring into each other's eyes. Even if her mind didn't remember, her soul and heart did. And that was like the greatest gift Grandyr could have given me.

"I dreamed," she said.

"What did you dream?"

"Of us. It's funny, I've been having these dreams ever since I woke. Usually, I forget them the moment I wake up, but not this time."

She snuggled closer, buried her head in the crook of my arm, and her leg applied more pressure around me, like she wanted to anchor herself. I obliged all too happily, increasing the pressure of my arms and hands slightly to let her know I was here.

"I dreamed of our binding ceremony, the binding of bodies."

My heart stuttered for just a moment. My mind raced, and I wondered if she really did remember or if her mind had just shown her what she wanted to see.

“We stood in a room in the palace I went to after I woke,” she murmured, her voice soft with the weight of dream and memory.

“It was a beautiful room, with tall windows that let the starlight in, the walls were made of that deep blue stone… lapis, I think? And the air smelled like cedar and something sweet, spiced honey, maybe.”

Her fingers traced idle patterns across my chest, and I held perfectly still, afraid that if I interrupted, even with breath, the memory would scatter like dust.

“You stood across from me,” she continued. “Wearing ceremonial robes. Dark blue with silver at the edges. And I—I was in a white dress with gold threading. It shimmered when I moved. There were no guests, no audience. Just us. And someone, an elder? Ney, a priest, standing between us.”

My throat tightened. That had been exactly how it happened.

“And he asked us to speak our vows. But you didn’t wait for him to finish. You stepped forward, took my hands in yours, and said, I’ve waited for you in this life and the last. I’ll wait again if I must. But please, don’t make me wait another minute .”

A laugh escaped her; it was quiet and awed. “It was so you. Bold, a little impatient, and so full of love it made me want to cry even in the dream.”

My heart swelled until it ached, until I didn’t think my body could contain it.

“That was our first ceremony,” I said, my voice hoarse. “The binding of the bodies. Blessed by the old priest, Errah. You wore that gown because you insisted the gods deserved nothing less than gold thread, and I wore those robes because you said you liked the way they made me look so noble.”

Her head jerked back slightly so she could look at me, wide-eyed. “That’s… that’s exactly what I dreamed. Even the gold thread.”

“You remembered, ” I whispered, reaching up to cup her cheek.

“I dreamed it,” she corrected, but her voice trembled with something deeper. “But it felt more like… a returned memory. Not one I made up. Like it had been waiting to come back.”

“It was,” I said softly. “I think your soul remembers everything, even when your mind doesn’t.”

She leaned into my touch, eyes closing for a moment. “Then it’s true, isn’t it? We did it. We completed one of the rituals.”

“Yes,” I nodded. “You bound yourself to me in body that night. And I bound myself to you in every way that matters.”

She opened her eyes again, full of wonder. “Then there’s still the other.”

I smiled. “The binding of the souls.”

I kissed her forehead. “When you’re ready.”

She snorted lightly, her voice laced with something more playful. “Well, considering how last night went, I think I’ve already submitted.”

I chuckled, tightening my arms around her. “There’s a ritual for it, too, you know. A ceremony, sacred and private.”

Her brow arched. “Does it also involve honey cakes and me biting your thumb?”

“Not traditionally,” I grinned, “but I’m willing to rewrite the rules.”

She laughed then, the sound bright and unguarded. “I want it all, Mallack. The memories, the rituals, the life we lost. I want it back.”

“You already have it,” I said, pulling her on top of me so I could see her face in the morning light. “You never truly left me. Not even in death.”

She lowered herself slowly, pressing her lips to mine; her kiss was soft and slow and full of something eternal.

We stayed like that, lips barely brushing, breath mingling in the quiet hush of morning. For a moment, it was only the two of us. No gods. No war. No memories lost or reclaimed. Just love. Simple. Fierce. Whole.

Then the tent flap flew open.

“I swear to Grandyr, if you two are naked again?—”

My groan was long and deeply felt. “Why does he always do this?”

Myccael appeared in the doorway, as usual, completely unapologetic, arms crossed over his broad chest and an amused glint in his eyes. Only he wasn't alone this time. Behind him, Oksana peeked in, her hair braided tight, her expression far too cheerful for how early it was.

“We brought food,” she said sweetly, holding up a steaming tray. “You’re welcome.”

“ We ?” I echoed even as premonition flooded me. In confirmation, Darryck ducked through the flap with Thalia right behind him, both looking thoroughly amused.

“You brought them with you?” I demanded of Myccael.

My son grinned, the smug little traitor. “Thought it was time for a proper family breakfast. And anyway, it’s not like we haven’t all heard you groaning about love and submission all night.”

Daphne snorted against my chest.

I groaned again and buried my face in her hair. “I’m going to kill our children.”

She laughed outright, the sound echoed like birdsong through the tent. “You’re not killing anyone. Sit up. Eat. Try not to grumble too loudly while you’re chewing.”

“I make no promises,” I muttered.

“Please don’t,” Darryck said, already dropping onto one of the low cushions and stealing a honey cake before Oksana could stop him. “Your grumbling is the only thing that makes me feel better about being this sore.”

“You’re sore?” Thalia said, raising an eyebrow. “You were the one shouting about your knees like an old warrior with gout. Honestly, I thought you might ask for a cane.”

“I was protecting my joints, ” he said defensively, mouth full. “Because, unlike your sarcasm, they’re still functional.”

Oksana plopped down beside Myccael, rolled her eyes, and whispered something into his ear that made him smirk.

Daphne and I finally untangled ourselves.

I handed her some clothes to get dressed under the blanket, while ignoring the outbursts of the others at my nakedness when I stood and donned my own.

That's what they got for invading the tent before we were ready.

Then we joined them around the table. She settled beside me with a satisfied sigh, and her hand slid into mine, right where it belonged.

Plates were passed. Cups were filled. Jokes were flung like knives and caught just as easily. There were too many hands reaching for the sweet rolls and not enough forks, and I was certain Darryck was hiding more food than he was eating, but none of it mattered.

Because this— this —was what we’d fought for.

A meal shared. A morning free of blood. Laughter, bickering, warmth.

A family.

For the first time in twenty rotations, I embraced joy—wholly, without reservation. When I woke to her snuggled against me earlier, I allowed myself to believe it was real.

This morning, I was complete. And for today, nothing else mattered.