Page 61 of Ties of Death

This means his skin is covered from neck down. Long sleeves. Gloves. Trousers. Stockings. His only exposed skin is his head.

Do I just need to touch him? It seems too simple. Maybe it needs to be a kiss? We skipped that, what Jakob called the sealing kiss, in the ceremony as well.

I’ve dreamed of kissing Daenn more times than I’d admit to myself before today, but the idea of kissing him on the lips when he’s unconscious makes me itchy. I’m already pushing past his desires by doing this. It doesn’t seem right to also steal a kiss when I don’t know how he feels about me.

I hope a more chaste kiss will suffice.

I tuck my hair behind my ear, lean forward, and press my lips to his cheek. I don’t know if I’m supposed to do anything else, but I try to fill the act with determination, with my love for him. My desire and longing and hope. I want this man. I want to be his wife, I want to be one with him, to share a full bondanda full marriage. And most importantly, I want him to live.

Even if that means living a life where I love him and he doesn’t return that affection, I will endure it if it means he lives.

Instantly, the bond between us snaps into focus, tightening, growing like a vine that connects our hearts. The swirling silvery tattoo burns under my skin, from my heart down to my wrist.

I don’t need to wonder if it worked. I know, as clearly as I know that he’s asleep—not because I can see it, but because I can sense it. I can sense him in a way I couldn’t before, and I can sense his mind at rest. Or, at the very least, asleep. It has an edge of weariness that sleep should have shaved off, but I suspect that has to do with the bracers more than a natural weariness.

I straighten and comb a hand through Daenn’s hair. It’s thick, and silkier than a man’s hair has any right to be. I let my fingers trail over his cheek, brushing my thumb over the spot I kissed. I’ve broken the barrier he’s held between us since my return to the clan, and I don’t ever want to draw back. Touching him is my lifeline.

With that point of contact grounding me, I close my eyes, shift to get more comfortable, and reach for the bracers over the bond again.

They too feel different now. When I brush my mental touch over them, I know the moment they take notice of me.

That’s right. I feel like Daenn now. Pay attention to me.

As if they know my thoughts, they do. And they are… aggressive. Their claws sink toward me, ravenous. Angry.

But I can handle anger. I’ve always been good at soothing.

I push my magic—only mine; despite the strengthened bond, there’s none of Daenn’s magic left intertwined with mine, a fact that might scare me if I gave it more than amoment’s consideration—toward the bracers. I give silent thanks that I’ve learned to direct it, and that I stillcandirect it, despite Daenn’s magic being absent.

The bracers latch on to my magic, lapping it up like it’s a pool of water, and their hold sends agony through my veins.

Is this the pain Daenn has dealt with since putting the first bracer on? I can’t fathom dealing with it for hours, let alone weeks.

I grit my teeth and ignore the pain to the best of my ability while I pull as much of the bracers’ attention to me as I can, unhooking them claw by claw from Daenn. My magic has far vaster stores, especially after waking the comatose clansfolk days before, and the bracers have had their fill of him, at least in the case of one, for weeks.

They take what I offer, gobble it up, and go searching for more. My magic has taken the aggressive edge from them, but they’re still insatiable. They take and take, diving into that lake of magic I pulled from the comatose clansfolk, and with each moment they’re latched into me, a tension builds, like a dam holding back a flood.

I pull my attention back from them slightly, just enough to reach for Daenn over our bond. I ignore his magic, instead searching for his essence. I have no idea if this will work, but now that our bond is complete, I hope.

After a moment, I find where his essence is twined with my own, like lovers wrapped in an embrace, and I push more of myself into it, strengthening him.

He won’t die.

I have no concept of time, no way to tell how much passes. I am weaker with each breath, pulled thin and worn to the marrow, but I refuse to retreat from the bracers or Daenn.

I’m too focused on Daenn to notice when it happens.

The building pressure from the bracers bursts. Power rebounds, a torrential flood that tries to drown me, to drag me from Daenn. It burns; it tears at me. The agony from before is nothing compared to this. But I hold fast to Daenn.

It will not take him from me.

At long last, the flood recedes, flows away, retreating into the bracers. Like they’ve seen our defenses and finally acknowledged defeat. With a final shudder, they go dormant, and the only magic I can sense is mine and Daenn’s. The glittering black thread of his weaves around my own sparkling milky-white magic. They’re no longer merged; they look like they did before I touched them, if fainter than before. The excess from the comatose clansfolk is entirely gone. I shudder to think what would have happened if I didn’t have it.

Beneath my hand, Daenn stirs, pulling me from my internal battlefield. I take a moment to savor the feel of him, both through the bond and under my touch.

He’s alive. The bracers didn’t take him from me. Whatever happens now, whatever consequences I face for completing the bond against his wishes, I am at peace in that knowledge.

Then I exhale and open my eyes to meet his gaze.

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