He came back after midnight, right when Neridia had lost all hope that he would ever return at all.
She’d cried an ocean’s worth of tears in his absence, sobbing into Rose’s soft shoulder. The motherly woman hadn’t tried to console her, or tell her that it would be all right. She’d just held her, and let her cry, her own wise eyes infinitely sad.
When Neridia had cried herself dry, Fire Commander Ash—who had silently observed the entire outpouring of her grief—had finally stirred. Despite his apparently unmoved expression, she’d had a sudden, odd certainty that he understood even better than Rose what she was going through.
“Neridia,” he’d said, very quietly. “If you wish it, if this is too painful for you to bear…I can destroy your mate bond.”
She’d stared at him, dumbfounded. “You can do that?”
“I am the Phoenix. There is nothing I cannot burn.” He’d hesitated, his eyes flickering for the briefest moment. “You must be absolutely certain, though. It is irreversible. And you would lose not only the bond itself, but also all memories of your mate. But perhaps that is better than grieving over what you cannot have.”
She’d promised that she’d think about it, though her strange inner voice had cried, No, no, no! And she had thought about it, even as Rose had roundly scolded Ash for daring to suggest such a terrible thing. She’d kept thinking about it as Rose had shown her to the pub’s small guest bedroom, telling her to call if she needed anything, anything at all.
But there was only one thing she needed. Her mate.
And if I can’t have him…maybe it is best to forget.
Now, slowly, she became aware of the faintest glimmer down the mate bond. The tiny sense of his presence was a mere firefly spark in the bleak darkness of her soul, but even that was enough to make her hold her breath, scarcely daring to hope.
He came soft-footed into the room, closing the door gently behind him. He was just a looming shape in the darkness. She couldn’t see his face, couldn’t get any hint of his thoughts through the mate bond.
But he was there.
“John?” She sat bolt upright on the bed, swinging her legs over the side. “What-?”
His finger brushed her lips, stopping h
er half-formed words. She trembled, even that tiny contact setting her blood on fire.
He traced the shape of her lips, her cheek. His hand cupped the side of her face. She could feel the callouses on his palm, thickened by years of wielding a sword. The rough skin was a harsh reminder of what he was—a sea dragon knight, bound by unbreakable vows.
And yet, he there he was.
He came back. He came back to me. He came back.
“John,” she breathed.
He bent down in answer, his mouth covering hers. She didn’t dare say anything more, for fear that he would change his mind. She just closed her eyes, opening her lips to him.
In the darkness, she could pretend that he was just a man. She could pretend that she was just a woman.
She could pretend that things could be simple between them.
He framed her face with his hands, fingers tangling in her hair. His tongue slid deep into her, as if he wanted to lay claim every inch of her body, the entirety of her soul.
His hands moved down, skimming her neck, her shoulders, her sides. Finding the hem of the old t-shirt she was wearing, he broke the kiss just long enough to lift the garment over her head. She shivered at the rush of cool air over her bare skin. He pulled her closer, recapturing her mouth, his body hot against hers.
Down the mate bond, she sensed his desperate hunger. She was already wet, but his powerful desire for her heightened her own need. She fumbled for the buttons of his shirt. The fabric was slightly damp, clinging to the swells of his shoulders as she tugged it off.
She ran her hands over the smooth, hard planes of his chest, his nipples tightening under her palms. She still only knew him by touch, and as a half-seen form in the night. She craved to finally look at him properly, but she didn’t dare reach for the bedside light. She didn’t want him to see her.
He was trading away his honor for her. The sight of her all-too-human form might make him realize what a bad bargain it was.
Instead, she pulled away from his kiss, ducking her head. He made an inarticulate noise of protest, but the growl turned into a low gasp as she ran her tongue along his collarbone. She could taste the salt of the sea on his skin, and a deeper, wilder scent that was all his own.
She explored him with her mouth, slowly, savoring every hard line of his muscles. His fingers ran lightly over her own back, exploring her in return with a delicacy that belied his strength. He stroked her as if she was some fragile, priceless treasure.
“Neridia,” he murmured into her hair, longing singing in his voice. “My mate. My mate.”