Page 52 of The Last One Standing (Rogue X Ara #4)

He released me like I’d burned him, scanning my face with a crease between his brows, his hands hovering in the air between us. I backed away and wrapped my arms around my abdomen.

He’d removed his touch from my skin, but for every inch I moved away, he followed.

“You almost died,” he said slowly, cautiously, as if speaking to a wounded animal. He wasn’t far off. “You lost a lot of blood, and it hasn’t been that long.”

His throat bobbing called my attention to the hand prints around his neck, faded to faint pink, like time had passed. A moment of confusion passed before guilt punched me in the gut.

My hands had done that, and he hadn’t fought back.

I tried to kill him.

Again.

I dropped my gaze to his sternum, to the center of his black shirt that lay over top of his six-pointed sun, the anchor of his blood oath. He said those who swore it were bound by loyalty, and to betray him—to harm him would cost them their lives.

I would swear that fucking oath today.

The sooner he was safe from me, the better. I would not be his executioner, nor Adonis’s weapon to yield.

Tears fell freely. I couldn’t stop them, so I didn’t bother. He tracked one down my cheek until it slid across my quivering lips, and his pained expression deepened like it physically hurt him.

I had hurt him—more times than I realized.

“You had a nightmare,” he whispered.

I should leave until I swear the oath. We needed distance between the two of us for his sake, but he inched ever closer, and I didn’t move. I stayed silent and still, because I was selfish—so fucking selfish and exhausted.

All I wanted right now was him.

The one person who should stay as far away as possible was also the only one who kept me sane and breathing, the only one who could touch me without stealing my peace.

The large, calloused hands of a warrior, a Fae king, a fire wielder, a fucking Draig were the only ones safe enough.

Did he know that? Had he realized yet that he was the only one who could touch me?

I wished I remembered what we’d had before. The remnants remained in my chest, but they were just that: remnants, the core feelings of familiarity, longing, lust, and my favorite, the deep sense of comfort his presence provided.

If he hadn’t been so…him, I would’ve thought I was mad, but no, the feelings were there, and he stoked them every day.

But they weren’t matched with memories. Months of learning, fighting against and for each other, laughing, growing, falling—gone.

Did he enjoy the sun or the stars? The land or sea?

Had I ever flown with him? I bit my lip when it threatened to tremble, swallowing the knot in my throat. If we had, that was a memory I needed, because it would never happen again, not without a wyvern.

Had he cared that I was half human? How did we even begin? From what I could remember, neither he nor his father liked humankind much. Though his father didn’t like anyone, not even his own flesh and blood.

My eyes fell to his scar, and without thinking, my fingers skimmed the rough skin, silvery in the moonlight. I followed it down his neck until it disappeared beneath his shirt.

His scar was another jumbled puzzle piece in my head. I knew Adrastus had done that, but who or when or how I knew that was gone.

I shook my head faintly, staring at my hand over his heart.

Had he told me? What else had he shared with me?

What had I shared with him?

I flattened my hand over his sternum. His pulse was strong beneath my palm, strong but fast—and I’d tried to stop it twice.

Two things needed to happen: I needed to swear the blood oath, and I needed my memories back. The former seemed easy enough. I’d sworn the blood oath in Canyon; I could do it again.

The latter would be a bit more difficult, but I would find a way. I had to, because there was love in this man’s eyes, and it physically hurt to see it and not know it.

If I were destined to be his downfall, I’d die before I could do it, but I wouldn’t go without remembering everything about him. My memories were as vital as my next breath, and they would return just as surely. I would get my memories back, one way or another.

My death would hurt him if it came to that, but he’d live, and he’d be a good king.

He lifted a hand, and I met his gaze. When I didn’t pull away, he cupped my cheek, fingers splayed in my hair, holding me as if I were something precious and not the unwilling poison lying in wait to kill him.

The realm needed a good king.

The realm needed him .

His palms caressed either side of my face, as gentle and warm as they’d ever been, and I closed my eyes, wishing the world didn’t exist beyond him.

Real, a voice whispered. This is real.

Rogue was real. These past few weeks were real.

His thumb wiped away a stray tear, and I opened my eyes, sucking in a breath when I found his flaming eyes even closer, mere inches away.

“Adonis will die,” he said, his thumb swiping my cheek again. “But until then, you’re safe. You’re here with me. Not there. You’re safe and here and alive.”

The remaining inch between us diminished until his lips brushed mine. His entire being was pure warmth, made solely for my frozen soul.

His mouth moved over mine, the movement so faint, I leaned forward to feel it more. He smiled, his hand sliding beneath my chin to tip my head back. “Say it: safe, here, and alive.”

“Safe,” I whispered into his lips.

His smile grew, and suddenly, I was at his mercy. I would do or say anything to widen that grin.

“Here.” I placed my hand over his. “Alive.”

He pressed his lips to mine, slow and heartfelt.

It wasn’t simply a kiss. It was a homecoming, and it wreaked havoc on our bond.

The swell in my chest cracked me in two, and a whimper broke from my lips.

When he pulled me into his lap, I wrapped my legs around his waist and buried my face into his chest.

I would swear the oath today, and I wouldn’t sleep until I did.

He would be safe today.

Then, I would find a way to remember, because I wanted him, every single part of him, every minute we’d spent together.

He was mine, and so were my memories.

I’ll get them back , I promised myself—and him too, because he deserved to be remembered, to be loved, to be chosen.

I chose him then, and I chose him now.

I matched my breaths to his, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear, and here, alone with him, I did feel safe.

We sat here for what felt like hours, and eventually, pale sunlight beamed on the horizon, setting fire to the snow-covered hill we sat on. The evergreens sparkled below, their dark needles a stark contrast.

“Is it a better day?” I asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

“As real as the stars,” I murmured. “You said to ask you about those stars on a better day. Is it a better day?”

He didn’t immediately answer. I almost sat up to meet his eye, but he cupped the back of my head and held me to his chest as he whispered, “I know this is real— we are real, because you hold the stars in your eyes when you’re in love. I’ve seen them, and I will again one day.”

My heart cracked, my throat hot. I wished I knew what that felt like. I wished I loved him, because love meant hope, and I so desperately wished I felt hope.

Rogue slid a finger beneath my chin and tipped my head back, scanning my face before he released a heavy sigh. “There are other things we need to talk about, but I don’t… I don’t want to add more weight on your shoulders.”

I didn’t want to hear it. Any of it. “Tell me.”

He pressed a thumb between my brows and smoothed the crease between them, his expression unreadable. “Forever my brave force of nature.”

Strings tugged in my heart, a nagging in the back of my head at the familiarity of that phrase.

“Not now, not here. Let’s get some food in your belly first, a warm bath, and…” His eyes lifted above my shoulder, and I turned to see two people cresting the hill—two women. “Someone has come a very long way to see you.”

Tears immediately welled in my eyes, and I jerked to my feet, gasping when stabbing pain raced through my injured thigh. I collapsed back to the ground but scrambled to stand again.

I didn’t care about the pain or the wound or the fact that it felt like I’d just popped a stitch— a stitch? —not when my mother was right there.

I saw the moment she spotted me, too. She paused a second before racing forward, calling my name over and over again, her voice cracking.

She lifted her skirts to run faster, her boots catching every root and dip in the snow.

I hobbled toward her until a strong arm laced under my shoulders and carried my weight for me.

When we finally reached them, Mother moved to hug me. I tensed, and Rogue glanced down at me in question. Despite every frayed nerve in my body, I nodded, and he slid his arm from beneath my shoulders.

Mother embraced me in the tightest hug she’d ever given.

My heart thundered, screaming to pull away. Instead, I stood still. I forced a breath in and exhaled a deeper one out. When my heart settled a fraction, I wound an arm around her, too.

She was cold and thin but alive.

We were alive.