Page 54 of Shifting Hearts

EIGHT

Broken Bones, Bound Hearts

Lucian

P ain is a funny thing. You get used to it. Expect it. Use it like armor. But this isn’t battlefield pain… well it is. But it’s not just broken ribs or torn muscle. This is her.

The look on her face when I said I regretted last night. Like I’d carved her open with my bare hands. And now, I’m bleeding on her floor while she stitches me up, both of us pretending like she didn’t just drag me through the forest and back from the edge of death. Again.

"You're lucky," she says, dabbing at the gash in my side. Her voice is calm, but her hands shake.

"You keep saying that."

"Because it’s true." Her tone sharpens. “That thing could’ve ripped you in two.”

“But it didn’t.”

“No thanks to you.”

I wince, not from the wound, but her words. "I wasn’t trying to die."

“You sure? Because from where I was standing, it looked like a damn suicide sprint.” Her eyes flash up to mine. “I’m not something you throw yourself in front of, Lucian. I’m not something for you shield or protect. I’m your fucking mate.”

I stare at her. The word echoes through the small room, ringing in my ears. Mate. Not an obligation or a weakness. Not a mistake. Just... truth.

And I’m still too much of a coward to say it back.

"Let me help you up," she says after a moment. I try to sit up but I can’t.

"My ribs are cracked, maybe even broken."

"No shit. I saw you hit the tree. I actually though he may have broken your damn back.”

She pulls me against her, slowly, carefully, and wraps her arm around my back. I feel her pulse through her skin. Feel her magic buzzing just beneath the surface.

“Why’d you do it?” she asks softly.

“Do what?”

“Throw yourself at that thing like you didn’t care what happened to you.”

“I didn’t.” I mean to say it like a fact. But it comes out a confession.

Her lips press into a thin line. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Enlighten me.”

She leans in, eyes locked on mine. “If you die, I break. That’s the bond.

That’s what this is. You think because you refused me all those years ago, you ended the bond between us but all you did was weaken it.

If you want to run from this, from us, fine.

But stop pretending like you’re saving me by hurting yourself. ”

Her voice cracks on the last word. And it kills me.

“I don’t want to want you,” I whisper and her breath hitches. “But I do. I think I’ve wanted you since the moment I walked into your shop with you sitting at the table, pretending not to see me.”

“I wasn’t pretending.”

“You were terrified.”

She nods. “Yeah. Because I remembered . I remembered what it felt like to be refused . ”

The word lands like a punch and I close my eyes. "I’m not going to refuse you again.”

She doesn’t speak and when I open my eyes, she’s staring at me like I just handed her a loaded weapon.

“Say it again,” she says, her voice barely a breath.

“I won’t refuse you, Emilia.”

She crawls into my lap, careful of my ribs, careful of everything else but the heat building between us again.

“You’re still bleeding,” she whispers.

“I’ve bled worse.”

“Don’t you dare die on me.”

“I won’t. Not while you still look at me like that.”

We don’t kiss and we don’t strip. We simply sit there, me holding her and her letting me. Because for once, the bond isn’t just about lust or pain. It’s about survival.

Hers.

Mine.

Ours.

And when I finally sleep, wrapped in her scent, her arms, her magic, I dream of nothing but her voice whispering my name like a promise neither of us is ready to break.