Page 57 of Heart Cradle
Eiran tilted his head like he might say something, but she was already turning, already through the door and walking fast down the hall. Not running, just… quick.
She reached the room and closed the door gently behind her. She didn’t lock it, what was the point. She didn’t go near the bathroom either. Not after London, not after Lisbon. Two bathroom breakdowns in one month was already disconcerting. She sat on the bed instead, staring ahead.
It was all going well.
That’s what she kept telling herself. Magic. Dragons. Mates. Flying. Chains. Kisses that made her forget how to breathe. Orgasms that made herforget her name. Why did her stomach feel like it was about to turn inside out? She rubbed at her chest, frustrated.
Because it wasn’t going well, not completely.
Eiran was kind, strong and seemed devoted. He told her he loved her, casually, openly, and fuck, that should’ve made her feel safe and anchored. Instead, it felt like the floor had vanished under her feet. He said he was honest, but he’d known about Jeipier’s pairing and ordered the saddle. Organised things that affected her, and hadn’t said a word. All of it carefully arranged. Tidy and so, so sweet. Even her things from Lisbon. The offer to sort her flat in London. She’d agreed, but Maeve wasn’t a child to be protected and given gifts. She wasn’t a project to be handled. She didn’t want perfect packages and loving surprises, she wanted the truth, the messy, painful kind. The full picture. Reality. She was an adult, who had no one for over a decade. She needed to know what was coming, because she had to be prepared. That was how she survived.
She bit the inside of her cheek, twisting her fingers. Then there was the magic. Still no fae awakening, no intention magic. Everyone said it would come, but it hasn’t. They had said: “When the time is right.”, “When your mate bond settles.” and “When your body’s ready.” And she had nodded, smiled and pretended to believe them. But deep down, she didn’t.
What if I’m not enough?
What if I’m too human.
What if I’m so broken from the attack that I can’t.
Three breakdowns in as many weeks, but no tears this time, that had to be an improvement. Her whole life had flipped on its head. She was being pulled in every direction, emotionally, magically, physically, and somewhere along the way, she’d lost track of what she even wanted.
She buried her face in her hands and exhaled. Eiran meant well, she knew that, but if he wanted her beside him, truly beside him, then he had to trust her with everything. Not just the parts he thought she was ready for. She was an adult and she’d be damned if she let herself be caught blind again.
Never a-fucking-gain.
Chapter Twenty-Four – Awakened
Eiran pushed open the bedroom door with the usual swagger, expecting her to maybe be brushing her hair, stretched out on the bed, or rolling her eyes at him. “Xelaini and Jeipier have gone off to do dragon things,” he said as he stepped inside. “Probably bullying clouds or setting trees on fire with style, bloody typical.”
Silence.
He caught her profile, shoulders tense, gaze fixed on nothing and he stopped cold. The humour drained from his voice. “Maeve?”
Nothing, no smile, no sarcastic jab, no eye roll. Just that awful stillness. He crossed the room carefully and knelt in front of her. It was becoming a habit, him kneeling like this. Something about being low to the ground made it easier to look her in the eye when she was pulling away.
“Are you alright?” he asked, quietly now. “Maeve, love. What’s going on in there?”
The answer came in a breath, followed by a hurricane, a torrent of emotion and uncertainty. Not shouting, or dramatics, just firm and controlled statements. Every word chosen, like a knife laid gently on a table before being turned sharp. She spoke of how she felt, how everything was moving without her. The saddle. Jeipier. Plans made in her name but not with her. How she wasn’t a doll to be dressed and flown and gifted things to distract her from the fact that she didn’t know what the fuck was going on most of the time. She said he was doing that, she said he was treating her like something to be handled.
Her voice was steady, but the pain in it undid him.
She told him she was scared, that she still hadn’t awakened and the magic hadn’t come. That she didn’t know if it ever would, and that she couldn’t take being a burden. That the longer she stayed the same, the more she feared she didn’t belong in this world, his world. She said she was bound, paired, and connected, but it felt as if she was being held, tied, and controlled. She said she was spiralling, that she thought she was unwell.
Fuck, it cut deep.
Eiran had always thought he was helping, anticipating her needs, shielding her from stress, smoothing the path so she didn’t have to trip, but in doing so, he’d stolen her footing altogether. He wanted to reach for her,to hold her, but instinct said no. She was sharing, truly sharing, and he wouldn’t interrupt. He wouldn’t soothe her into silence, not again.
He stayed stock still, his own breath barely moving in his chest. She continued, voice quieter now and raw. Vulnerable in a way that flattened him, in fact, it crushed him. He looked up at her, at the woman he adored, his mate, his match, and for the first time, saw just how lost she felt. And it wasn’t some enemy that had made her feel that way, it was him. He felt bereft, utterly mortified. Embarrassed that his protectiveness, his planning, his anticipation and his careful design, looked like control to her. Felt like control.
That it was control.
He felt adrift that she’d questioned her worth, her magic and her belonging. He didn’t care that she hadn’t awakened yet, not even slightly, but she did. He swallowed hard, “Maeve…” His voice came rougher than he intended, cracking at the edges.
But he stopped, he let her sit with her truth. Let her lead, this wasn’t about him. He would speak when she was ready to hear it, and when he did, it would be the whole truth. Because that’s what she deserved. Not gifts or plans, just him. Her voice grew quieter, like wind tugging gently at the edges of something sacred and finally silence hung between them, thick and dreadful. Eiran exhaled through his nose, clinging to calm. He knew what he had to say, without charm or comfort. Just bare truth and he looked up at her with no shields, no smiles, no cleverness.
“Maeve,” he said gently. “You’re right.”
She looked at him, startled by the words already.
