Page 38 of Wrapped in Their Arms

He only knew he didn’t want to let go.Notnow.Notever.

She felt so small between them…so breakable.Herbody trembled faintly even in sleep, as if her muscles had forgotten how to rest.Herscent had changed—richer, sweeter, more potent—but under the surface, he could still taste the lingering edge of trauma.Itclung to her like a second skin.

What had been done to her?Whateverit was,Brightwas sure it had been bad.Thestrange connection between the three of them had told him that.Ithad been agony to feel her pain and be unable to go to her—it had almost drivenBurnto the edge of madness.

Bright’s heart ached when he remembered the relentless pacing…the wayBurnhad punched the cell door and pulled against the bars like an animal desperate to escape.Andthat was only what he’d seen on this end—what had been happening toNoelle?

He tightened his arm around her shoulders, nestling her closer, tucking her tenderly against the curve of his body.Herhead rested onBurn’sshoulder but she had one arm flung loosely back againstBright’swaist, as if she couldn’t decide which of them to hold.

You don’t have to choose,he thought.We’llboth hold you, sweetheart.Always.

He looked past her, toBurn.

His friend lay stiffly, eyes fixed on the wall beyond them, butBrightcould feel the tension vibrating through his massive frame like a wire stretched too tight.Burnwasn’t shaking exactly—but he wasn’t calm either.Hishand rested onNoelle’storso, his fingers flexing every so often, as if they couldn’t decide whether to hold her tighter or let her go.

The pain rolling off him was quieter now, dulled byNoelle’sreturn.Butit hadn’t gone away—not by a long shot.

Bright could still feel it—that deep, echoing ache that came from someplace so old and broken,Burndidn’t even have words for it.Henever had—not since the day they met.

Burn had told him once—just once—that he’d been an orphan since the age of twelve.Hisvoice had been flat and matter-of-fact.ButwhenBrighthad gently asked what happened, his friend had shut down so completely, it was like watching a door slam in his face.

He’d tried again once or twice, over the years.Softquestions…careful prodding.ButBurnalways recoiled, anger sparking behind his midnight eyes, retreating into himself with clenched fists and a steel jaw.

It’s not your business.

Drop it.

Forget it.

And soBrighthad..mostly.

But that haunted look inBurn’seyes tonight—the panic whenNoellewas gone, the desperation in his voice, the cracked whisper ofthey never came back—it all told a storyBrightdidn’t have the full shape of yet.Justbroken pieces…shadows of a nightmare too old and too deep to name.

He didn’t know what had happened toBurn’sfamily.Buthe knew this moment—thisloss, even though it had only been temporary—had dragged it all back to the surface.

And nowBurnwas drowning again.

Goddess,Brightthought.Pleaselet us keep her…let us keep each other.Pleasedon’t take it all away.

He closed his eyes and breathed her in.

The scent ofNoellefilled his lungs—sweet and intensely feminine.Hedidn’t know what the treatments had done to her, but it hadn’t changed who she was.Shewas still strong beneath the fragility…stillNoelle.

And he cared for her—more than cared.Therewas something blooming inside him, slow and inevitable, something that had started the moment he laid eyes on her and had only grew stronger with every heartbeat they shared.

She was his—theirs.

He didn’t know how this would end—whether theGoddesswould allow him andBurnto trulyBondher to them, or whether the curse of being two loners would damn them to failure.

But he knew what he wanted.

He wantedthis.Thethree of them, together…safe and whole.

Bright opened his eyes and looked down at her again, brushing a strand of glossy black hair away from her cheek.

She sighed in her sleep and burrowed closer between them, sighing contentedly.

Burn still hadn’t spoken—he lay there like a statue, carved from pain.Butat least he wasn’t alone.