was building this cottage with Cian’s hands. Refugees were
everywhere. There was not enough food to feed them, and they
looked to Cian and Beck.
A smoke-filled image invaded Meg’s brain. Liadan stood by the
bed, whispering to Cian. He tried to get up, but the smoke was too
much. It was time to fade.
It was too much. It was too fast. Meg felt the moment her brain
shorted out. She barely made a sound as she slipped into a blissful
darkness.
* * * *
Cian Finn came to on the bed of the cottage he had built. He was
disoriented. It seemed to be morning, or maybe afternoon. He shook
his head. It was afternoon, he decided as he studied the shadows on
the walls.
He felt magnificent. His head was clear. How long had he been
like that? It had been a nightmare of chaos. The clarity in his brain
was bliss after the long pandemonium he had been living in.
Bound
147
Cian sat straight up in bed. Meg. She had bonded with him. It was
very difficult for him to sort through everything that had happened in
the last few years. He was certain now it had been years since he
began the long slide into chaos. He might never get those years back,
but he remembered Meg. Meg was the one clear thought in his head.
She was his wife.
Cian felt a moment of pure panic when he saw her lying so still on
the bed. Her legs were underneath her at an odd angle. For a moment,
he was sure he had killed her, and he knew his life would be over, just
as he had gotten it back. Then her chest rose slightly. She was alive.
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