Page 42 of Ashborne Forged

“I can feel you. Today, you haven’t been afraid at all.”

He blinked. I’d caught him off guard. His head dropped and he frowned at the ground before he met my eyes again. “It was never you I was afraid of, Grace,” he said softly.

There was a flare in the bond—a hum of tension. A cold thread laid alongside that warm cord that tied our hearts together. Instinctively, I reached for him—not with hands, but within myself. Enveloping that cold little thread, holding it to me, to warm it.

‘Will you… tell me?’ I asked carefully through the bond. It was still a struggle for me, unless we stood very close to each other. Voski was better at it.

He nodded slowly. “Not now. But one day. Yes.” Then he exhaled, his head dropping, like the words had taken some effort. “Yes, I will.”

“Why does that make your breath puff?”

He stared at the ground. “Because I’ve never wanted to talk to anyone about it. Ever.” Then he raised those eyes, pinpoints of light piercing out from under the shadow of his brows. “But with you, I do.”

I could barely breathe. It was a gift. I knew it. I didn’t know how I knew it. But there was something so fragile. So precious in him.

“You can trust me,” I breathed. “I promise.”

He nodded. “I know. It’s fucking crazy, but I know.”

“Good.”

He stared at me, then started back. For a moment I was afraid I’d managed to anger him—then when he stopped at my toes once more and offered a hand, my guts twisted tight. Was he going to make love to me after all?

I gripped his offered hand, and he tugged me effortlessly to my feet—and immediately pulled me into his embrace, tipping up my chin and kissing me—long, slow, and soft.

Not the beginning of lovemaking. But something else.

A precious thing.

~ VOSKI ~

Saying those words to her had opened something in me. Something I’d known for days, but hadn’t found a voice for.

For once, she didn’t speak into it—but I felt her in the bond. As if she held onto me. Held me. Not the cling of a desperate child. The embrace of a woman. A heart that was my match. My mate.

The storm in my chest had eased over these days. My anger was virtually gone.

I wanted her desperately, but that evening was different. I moved carefully. Thoughtfully. Every step a preparation. Every word chosen. Every passing moment, a countdown.

With that simple conversation, something had shifted. A boundary I’d released. A fence torn down.

I was ravenous.

Not for the food.

But for her.

To show her. To be known by her.

Now, she stood at my toes… trusting.

I was overwhelmed with the most intense desire to give her something. Let her hold a piece of me. The very thought made my instincts scream in protest, but I shoved them down.

The problem was, she was so new. Still so innocent.

I knew if I tore back this veil, it could never be shrouded again. So, I hesitated.

Not in fear. But in wisdom. She was new, and adventuring, and wonderful. I needed to take care with her. But perhaps her recklessness would prove beneficial?