Page 84 of The Delta’s Rogue (Crescent Lake #4)

She doesn’t need to give me a reason. She doesn’t need to explain herself.

Her healing won’t be linear. There will be giant steps forward, followed by leaps and bounds backwards, and I will support her through it all.

I will be her strength when she has none left.

I will take care of her so she can take care of her kingdom.

No. Our kingdom.

“I should have b-been able t-to get away from them.” Her words come out choked and wet and broken. “There’s n-no reason they should have c-caught me as easily as they d-did. ”

“Sarina, that’s not—”

“It’s my fault they caught me,” she sobs. “It’s my fault I can’t feel our bond or my lycan. All of it is my fault.”

I tighten my grip on her, tucking her head under my chin and drawing her in as close as I can.

Her heaving sobs echo off the trees even with her face buried in my chest. Guilt floods into me—the guilt she feels for getting taken and the guilt I bear for letting her leave without me all those years ago. But our combined guilt is unfounded.

“This blame is not yours to bear,” I murmur with my lips in her soft hair. I’m reassuring myself as much as I’m reassuring her. “You did nothing wrong. The blame belongs to no one but the foul men who took you and that bitch of a witch, Amara, and whoever it is they’re working for.”

“I let her break me,” she confesses in a whisper. “The things they did to me, the things I let them make me do…” Her chin lifts, and I lean my head back until her broken, haunted, red-rimmed eyes meet mine. “I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for any of it.”

“I forgive you.” I cup her cheeks and hold her gaze. “I forgive you for doing what you needed to in order to survive. I forgive you for giving in to their demands so you could save yourself. And I will keep on forgiving you until you can forgive yourself.”

The words of absolution feel wrong. There is nothing to forgive. She did nothing meriting an apology, but she doesn’t see it that way.

She doesn’t need me to convince her she’s innocent. She needs me to accept her as she is. The broken bits, the scars that may never heal, and the nightmares that may never fade—all of it is part of her now, and she needs reassurance that I won’t try to change her or walk away from her.

“I love you,” I declare, my thumbs stroking her cheekbones. “I loved you four years ago, I loved you every day we were apart, and I love you now. There is nothing— nothing —you can tell me that will change that. My heart, my love, and my soul—all of me belongs to you.”

A small smile breaks through the tears falling from her eyes. Her chin lifts, and she reaches up to kiss me, her palms flattening against my chest. Her lips part and mesh with mine, moving in a twisting dance of passion. It deepens as the seconds pass.

I bite back a groan as her body presses closer to mine. Her fingertips dig into my chest, and mine dig into her cheeks, both of us holding each other as tightly as we can .

I wrap my arm around her shoulders and roll us so she’s back on top of me. She has all the control this way–control of our positioning, control of the length and intensity of our kisses, or if she even wants to be this close to me at all. I grant her all the power.

To my delight and surprise, she continues the kiss.

She keeps the same pace, the same soft intensity, but her fingers wander up my chest to where my neck meets my shoulder.

She brushes over that spot with the barest of feather-light touches, and the groan I held back before rumbles through me at her teasing of my marking spot.

It’s almost too much. It’s almost enough to make me come in my shorts.

Not that I would care. But I’m selfish, and the next time I come, I would prefer for it to be with my dick deep inside her and my teeth in her neck, marking her as mine.

I tremble beneath her, tensing my body to prevent myself from finding that release too soon.

She pushes herself so she sits upright on top of me. “Are you okay?”

“It’s just…been a while. I’ve never— There’s never been anyone else.”

“I know. I would have felt it through the bond.”

I sit so we’re face to face again and rest my hands on her thighs. “If you could feel that, then why’d you demand to know about my other experiences at the club?”

Sarina shakes her head. “I couldn’t feel you through the bond like that until after I tackled you in the forest. Even though I always knew you were my mate, it was different when we were kids.

Then, it was your scent and this sense of knowing, of certainty.

You felt like home. When you were around, I was whole and happy.

When you left, it felt like you took part of me with you.

” She laces her fingers with mine and squeezes tight.

“After I tackled you here four years ago, the full force of the bond bombarded me. The sparks, your emotions—all of it.” She inhales, slow and deep. “Now I only feel traces of it.”

I wrap my arms around her and bring her so we’re only one inch apart and her hands rest on my shoulders. “There’s still no sign of your lycan?”

“What if she never comes back?”

“She will. She just needs time to heal herself.”

“What if she doesn’t? How can I lead our kingdom without a lycan? No one will follow or respect a queen who can’t shift or mindlink or defend herself. They will think I am weak. ”

“You are not weak.” I grab her hands and show her the scars on her wrists. “Anyone who sees these scars and hears your story will know that you are anything but weak. They will follow you to the ends of the earth when they learn what you went through to protect them.”

She doesn’t reply to my declaration. I sense her skepticism. She wants to believe my words, but she can’t. Not with everything currently poisoning her mind.

I can’t fix it, not the way I want to. But I can give her the love, patience, and strength she needs so she can come out stronger on the other side.

I kiss her forehead then I pluck a few stray pine needles from her hair and tuck the strands behind her ear. “Let’s get you back to the house.”

We rise to our feet and I shift into my lycan, scooping her into my arms and taking off towards Peter and Imogen’s house. When the deck is in view, I mindlink Wesley, asking him to bring me a pair of sweatpants.

My lycan sets Sarina on the railing. She sits there smiling, her legs swinging, while we wait for Wes to bring me the clothes.

Goddess, I wish I could mindlink her. Feeling her through the bond isn’t enough. I want to know what her sassy, cunning mind is contemplating.

I know she can’t hear me, but I send her a mindlink anyway. “What are you thinking about, Little Rogue?”

Silence. It’s what I expected, but somehow it’s still a knife to my heart.

I sigh in disappointment as Wesley exits the house, sweatpants in hand. A male I’ve never met before is right behind him, with dark curls on the top of his head and a sharp nose that is vaguely familiar.

“Sarina.” The male crosses his arms and stares at the back of her head with a smirk that is nearly identical to the one she loves to give me.

She spins around so fast she almost falls off the deck railing, and my lycan lunges to hold her in place. But before he can grab her, she’s running across the deck towards him.

“Micah!”

Wesley tosses me my pants as I shift back to human form. Now I know why the newcomer’s nose looks familiar. It’s the same nose as King Malachi’s.

Sarina hugs her brother. “When did you get here?”

I tug my sweats on and hop over the railing and onto the deck .

“Just a bit ago,” Micah replies.

“Dad said you’d be coming later.”

“It’s later, isn’t it?” He winks at me.

Sarina returns to my side and wraps her arms around my waist. “Sebastian, this is my brother, Micah.”

“I remember you.” I shake his hand, memories unlocking in my mind like they did when I learned Sarina’s true identity. “You glued your dad’s wine glass to the table at dinner the first night we were there.”

He laughs, and his broad smile matches the grin I saw on King Malachi’s face this morning. “It’s nice to finally meet you again, Sebby.”

My jaw clenches as I avoid releasing a snarl of annoyance. “Sebastian,” I say instead. “Or Seb. But not Sebby. Never Sebby.”

“Sorry, it’s habit. Growing up, all I ever heard from Sarina was ‘Sebby this’ and ‘Sebby that’.” The pitch of his voice raises as he teases his sister.

Wesley covers his mouth as he coughs out a laugh.

“Micah!” Sarina hisses through her teeth, glancing up at me with heated cheeks.

I smile and squeeze her hip to assuage her embarrassment. “Sarina is the only one who can call me that without it bothering me.”

“It doesn’t bother you when Haven calls you ‘Sebby’ either,” Wesley points out.

I shrug. “I don’t make the rules. I just follow them.”

“I get it.” Micah shoves his hands in his pockets.

“You don’t like when others call you ‘Mike’?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No one calls me that. But my full first name is Michaiah, and I never let anyone use it because I hate it.” As soon as the confession leaves his lips, he whips his head side to side and his eyes dart around. “Don’t let my dad hear that, though,” he says under his breath.

“Your parents aren’t here right now,” Wesley reassures him. “They went to Crescent Lake to grab some groceries and other supplies for everyone.”

Micah’s shoulders slump in relief.

Sarina yawns, turning her face into my side to try to hide it from me, but I see it anyway, plus I sense her exhaustion through the bond. I probably pushed her too hard, making her run so I could chase after her, but I don’t think either of us regrets it .

“Come on.” I take her hand and lead her towards the house.

Before I can reach the back door, Rune rushes out from the house, followed by Steele and Landon.

“We found the traffickers,” Rune says, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. “We found their headquarters.”