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He raised both eyebrows. “You didn’t do anything.”
“Exactly.” When he frowned, she elaborated. “It took me all this time to realize…I never thanked you.”
“For what?”
“You saved me.” Her tone indicated she was quite baffled about needing to explain it to him.
He shrugged, put his hands on his hips and looked to the side. “No need to thank me.”
“But I want to. You deserve—” She took a deep breath. “I should have thanked you sooner. I was just…too much of a coward to talk to you. I’m sorry—”
“You’re not a coward.” It came out harsher than he intended, and he grimaced. “Look, I get it. You don’t have to apologize to me. I never even expected any thanks—”
“Is it true you ripped his heart out?”
He paused, his chest heaving just from the memory of being in that blood-drenched warehouse. “His tongue, too.”
The corners of her mouth twitched.
“Broke every single bone in his body.”
Her eyes sparkled.
“Flayed the skin off his hands.”
The smile taking over her face was an echo of the one he loved to see on Merle, similar, and yet different. The fire in her amber-gray eyes, however, flared with a ferocity born of ancient times, far beyond anything he’d ever witnessed in Merle.
“Thank you,” Maeve said emphatically. “Thank you, Rhun.”
“You’re welcome.” His throat felt thick and raspy.
When she blinked, that age-old glint left her eyes, and she was again the little sister of the witch he loved, reminding him so much of his own baby sister…the one he hadn’t been able to save.
“I’m doing a lot better now,” Maeve said, her hands in the pockets of her jeans.
“I’m glad.”
And he was. He’d watched her make tremendous strides in her recovery, especially recently. She was able to go out more with her friends, could even stand to be in crowds despite her disfigurement—hell, he knew it couldn’t be easy for her to brave the looks and reactions of strangers.
And yet she did, every single day.
She’d come so far since the night they pulled her out of that hellhole, and it was amazing to watch her take charge of her life again—and the realization was like a hot blade to his heart. Gods fucking dammit.
It had been so much easier to insist on sending her to Arawn when she’d been a distant concept, more present in his mind as the leverage they needed to use than as a real person. He’d barely seen her over the past months, much less spoken to her. And now here she was, come to thank him, while he was planning to hand her over to the monster who wanted to enslave her—
Hell, it made him feel like the shittiest person on earth.
He had trouble breathing past the ache in his chest.
After all the progress she made in her recovery, he could only imagine what surrendering her to Arawn now would do to the ember of spirit that had just begun to rekindle. If she had to leave at this point, it might very well send her straight back into a tailspin of despair and misery. And while she’d offered to go with Arawn when he first came to claim her—in order to prevent Merle from making that deal with him to keep her safe from him a bit longer—would she still be willing to surrender herself, now she’d just begun to piece herself back together?
“I was wondering,” Maeve interrupted his dismal thoughts, “now I’m…better, would you mind if I move back in with you guys?”
Well, fuck. This couldn’t be real. This was too cruel even for those fucked-up, sadistic Powers That Be.
“I think,” Maeve went on, unaware of his inner turmoil, “I’ve reached the point where I can handle my anxiety and be around you without freaking out. I…miss home. I miss having Merle around. And…I’d love to get to know my…brother-in-law.”
Eyes of fire and smoke met his own, and the sincerity in them slayed him. Inwardly, he cursed so hard it wouldn’t have surprised him if his guts turned blue.
