Page 143 of The Heir's Bargain

So, despite how much it pained me to do it, I pushed everything I was feeling down and kept my mouth shut.

Dani thought asking for help was a sign of weakness. She would rather dig her nails into her bed and swallow the pain down than ask someone to help. She thought that by not needing someone's help, she was somehow stronger and more capable. However, I have watched my mother lean on her advisors time and time again. Never once did it make me think any less of her or her ability to rule as queen.

I wanted Dani to know it was all right to lean on someone.

I stepped forward and gingerly wrapped my arm around Dani's waist. When she didn't push me away—when she instead leaned against me—the pit of my stomach heated. As my veins buzzed with an intoxicating energy and set my soul aflame, I wondered how I had never noticed the sensation before. Had this feeling always been there? Had I subconsciously ignored it?

I didn't know how I could have possibly dismissed it, though. It was overwhelming and blatantly obvious.

My mother once told me that soul bonds appear when we least expect them and often when we need them the most.

It should have been a comfort, a relief.

It seemed I had been searching for my soul bond forever. But now that I had found her, I was scared shitless.

Not only because I had almost lost her, but what if Dani decided to ignore the bond? Soul bonds might have been connected by fate, but fate only had so much power over people. Dani already questioned me. She believed I wished her to be someone she wasn’t, some idealized version of some obtuse societal expectation, but all I wanted was her.

All of her.

Every version I had witnessed—the woman laughing and wiping ale from her lip with the back of her hand at a rundown tavern, the one draped in silk and glowing in the golden hue of the sun, the one who threatened to stab me countless times as a child.

I wanted every single version of her, now and for the rest of our days.

I swore I would protect it with my life if Dani even gave me a sliver of her heart.

She would never question her worth.

She would never question her ability.

She would never question my truth.

She would never question who she was or if she was good enough.

To me, she was already the queen of my heart, and I would gladly bow before her without hesitation.

If she let me.

Dani hissed in pain as she took a step forward. I held her closer, tucking her beneath my arm. While I couldn't erase the pain or make the scars disappear or rewrite the past, I could lessen the pain—at least a little.

And for Dani, I would do anything.

We stopped beside the bathtub, now filled. With a pull of the ribbon, Dani loosened the thin robe. I walked behind her and grabbed the fabric to help her out of it.

"I can manage by myself," she mumbled, spite lacing her voice.

"I know you can," I said, and unable to help myself, I placed a gentle kiss on the back of her head. "But please, let me help. I need. . ."

Dani peered over her shoulder at me. "You need what?"

I bit down on my tongue. I hadn't meant to say anything. This wasn't the time to have this conversation. She was alive. She would heal. And yet. . .

"Fynn, what is it?" Dani asked.

Sighing, I brushed a hand through my hair. "When Lance came storming into the Wilton's manor, I thought—" I swallowed, the words lodging themselves in my throat. But with Dani's eyes locked on me, awaiting an explanation, I forced myself to continue, "I thought I had lost you. His thoughts were wild. I couldn't—I didn't know what happened."

Dani faced me. Then, hesitating momentarily, she pressed her hands lightly against my chest. Her hard exterior softened, her brows smoothing as she said, "You didn't lose me, though, Fynn. You never could."

My gaze flicked across her face, from the freckles on her nose to the faded bruises on her temple. I leaned into her touch, closing my eyes as her warmth surrounded me.

---