Page 155 of Twisted Ties

He reaches down and lifts the small boy from the ground, holds him in his arms, kisses his cheeks and his forehead, hugging him tight. The boy squeezes him, refuses to let him go, and the man peers towards a young woman, concern etched all over her features, tears in her eyes.

She peels the boy from the man. Kissing him longingly, hangs onto his hand. But then he’s slinging his kit bag over his shoulder, walking away, waving to them as he goes, all the way to the end of the road. Then he steps around the corner and he’s gone.

“What happened?”she whispers as the memory fades and I open my eyes.

“He was sent to fight in the Western border lands.” I stare up at the darkening sky. “And he never came home. When the time came, when he was asked, he gave his life to protect us, to defend us. While others …”

I drop my gaze to hers.

“While others?” she says.

“Shirked their duty.”

“You think that’s what I was doing? What my aunt was doing?”

“When I first met you, yes, yes, I did.”

“It should be a choice. It shouldn’t be forced, mandatory.”

“And what would you choose now, Rhi?” I ask.

She meets my gaze with her steely one.

“I hope you know me well enough by now, Phoenix, to know I fight for the people I love.”

“I do. I was wrong.”

“What happened afterwards? To you and your mom?” she asks.

“My parents … they were …”

She squeezes my hand. “Fated mates?”

I peer up at her. I hate telling this story. Hate the way people’s eyes flood with sympathy. I hate that. But hers don’t. They’re steady. She’s faced her own loss in life. She knows sympathy is as worthless as unfelt words of apology.

“Yes. My mom never recovered the loss of her mate. It ripped the soul from her body and she lost her mind.”

“But you were meeting her for lunch? The other day–”

“At the home, Rhi. Where she’s been locked away for the last twenty-five years.”

She doesn’t bother telling me she’s sorry. She leans over me and presses her lips to mine, and it’s exactly what I need.

“It won’t happen to us,” she says against my mouth.

“No,” I say. I’m damn determined it won’t. Because, damn it, I do love this girl. For all her brattiness and snark, for her sharp tongue and her naivety. I love her.

I love her for her smile, her laugh, for the way her cheeks fill with color and her eyes dance with excitement.

Fuck, I love her.

I pull her into my arms and carry her into the dark cabin, kicking the door shut behind me and striding through to the bathroom. She frowns as I lower her onto the closed toilet seat.

“This wasn’t exactly where I thought you were going to take me.”

I simply smile at her, using my magic to turn on the taps and let the bath fill with warm, bubbly water.

Then I peel off her dress, pausing to heal the grazes on her skin, the missing hair on her head, the cut over her eyebrow, relieved, and not a bit surprised, to find the blood on her skin is not her own. She climbs into the bath, sighing with relief as the warm water swallows her up and I kneel by the tub.