Page 41 of Gift from the Nexus

Corentin.

I feel his presence without him speaking and my nose burns from the tears I’m trying to hold back. When he runs his thumb across my trembling bottom lip, I suck in a deep, strangled breath.

“Who did this, princess?” he asks, laying his hand right above the impression on my chest, and the emotions I was fighting off come flooding out. He gives me all the time I need to cry, never removing his hand, never hurrying me along. He just lets me weep.

“Donald. He’s been given the gift of invisibility, and his element is fire.”

I wait for the bombarding of questions that I know they all have. I feel them practically strumming through my mind, but none of them speak a word. They don’t break our moment, andfar too quickly, Corentin removes his hand and backs away, which leaves only one.

And Draken was the one I was dreading the most.

“Look at me, little wanderer.”

Shaking my head, I squeeze my eyes tighter. I can’t face him. Even my dragon hangs her head low in my chest, both of us shrinking in on ourselves, ashamed we didn’t do more to protect our precious mark from our mate.

“Please look at me.” He and his dragon purr together, sending a calming, comforting feeling that has us obeying almost immediately.

Blinking away the water from both the tears and shower, I gaze up into his sea of cobalt blue. There isn’t an ounce of anger, shame, disappointment, none of that, only love, devotion, and pride.

“What are these four marks?” he asks, dotting the claw marks Max left behind.

“A saber-toothed tiger’s claw marks. Well, I guess he was called a Dentemtigirus shifter. Dyce killed him.”

Another wave of shame washes over me when I admit that. If I hadn’t been held captive by the cuffs, my dragon would’ve been able to dominate Max. He never would’ve been able to sink his claws into me. More than that, Franklin wouldn’t have…

“What are you ashamed of, Willow?” Draken asks, sensing the shift in my emotions.

“I didn’t stop him. I couldn’t stop him from destroying my mating mark.”

“Who is he? Tell me what he did.”

I let it all fall out. Everything. The moment Franklin laid the tip of the knife to my mark, causing my dragon to surface and the cuffs to burn me, the words he said about my mother, how I refused to answer who marked me, and what he did to my markwith the dagger after that. It all flows out of me in a mixture of rage and heartbreaking sobs.

“Do you feel that?” Draken asks as he reaches up and caresses his own mark slowly. I search my chest for the feeling, but none flutter in.

“I—”

I suck in a sharp gasp when the sensation of Draken surges through my hip and my mating mark tingles, pulsing all things him. Warmth, comfort, love, fierce devotion, freedom. I bathe in the glorious feelings, letting them sink into my soul and nuzzle down as deeply as they can, until the painful realization hits me square in the heart.

“You felt it.”

“It’s called a mate’s message. You thought of me when it was happening.”

“I thought of how sorry I was. How so, so sorry I was.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Willow. You are and always will be my mate, my Primary. Mark or no mark. I don’t care what it looks like. If you want, we’ll mark me the same so we can match. I don’t care. What I care about is you and only you. You’re the fire that feeds my soul,” he swears, laying his hand on my hip, rubbing soft circles on the torn and damaged skin.

Pulling me closer, he captures my mouth in a devouring kiss that leaves no room for argument about how he truly feels. I can tell by each possessive, fierce stroke of his tongue, he’s upset with what’s been done to me, but he’s far more concerned with me and making me feel better than anything else.

More hands are placed on my body, sealing up the internal wounds that were going to bleed me dry far faster than the external ones and soon, the dark veil of my intrusive thoughts fades away, leaving my mind and heart at peace. I still have much to tell them, and the actions of today will still dredge upfears and anxieties for some time to come, but I’m not going to drown in them, not with them by my side.

“We need to get you something to eat, another healing vial, and some sleep,” Corentin says gruffly before leaning down, giving my forehead a kiss, leaving me and the other three standing in the shower.

Not a glance, no eye contact, nothing, and his dismissal hurts a small part of me, but I shove it away because Tillman’s words ring clear, and I know without a shadow of a doubt, Corentin believes he deserves this distance.

And I fully intend to fix that.

Seven

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