Page 5 of Heart Cradle
“And what, exactly, are you trying to find?” she asked, sitting back, arms crossed.
His smile shifted into something quieter, private. “Sometimes it must find you first.”
Maeve tried not to fidget. “I bought this off a market stall,” she said, defensive despite herself. “So if you’re about to tell me it’s cursed or stolen, don’t.”
“I’m not,” he said gently. “Though I imagine the seller had no idea what they were parting with.”
Maeve’s mouth went dry. “What exactly do you think it is?”
He looked at her for a long moment, the teasing edge gone. “I think it’s something I’ve been seeking for a very, very long time.”
Chapter Five – Mate Bond
Maeve took a slow sip of her coffee, more to buy time than because she actually wanted it. The espresso was now lukewarm, but her mouth had gone chalk-dry. Eiran was beautiful, strangely calm in the way only dangerous things could be. He watched her with open interest, no arrogance or push and that somehow made it worse. Predators usually strutted and postured, this one simply was. Like a tide coming in, like the click of a lock on a door you hadn’t realised was already shut behind you.
“You’re being deliberately cryptic,” she said at last, narrowing her eyes. “Is this some weird tourist scam? If so, it’s got a very niche angle.”
He smiled again, sure but not mocking. It should have irritated her, but it didn’t. It made her stomach flip again, as if it were twisting like a low rolling cloud.
“I’m being honest,” he said, voice gentle. “I just... don’t think you’re ready to hear everything. Not yet.”
She sat back, looking at her nails, before letting out a short, humourless laugh. “You don’t know me.”
“No,” he agreed. “But I don’t have to.”
That silenced her into frustration. Something about the way he said it made her nerves fizz. Her hand, almost on autopilot, lifted to the bracelet. The moment her fingers brushed it and the low thrum beneath her skin intensified. Not painful, not even uncomfortable now, just present, as if it recognised her, or worse, recognised him.
He didn’t speak, just looked at her. Not with challenge, but with something quieter, something close to longing, then he nodded gently towards her wrist. “May I?” he asked. “The Chain.”
Maeve hesitated, not out of fear, but out of stubborn defiance. Something about the question felt too intimate for a public café, but her hand moved anyway. Cautiously she lifted her wrist and offered it to him. He reached out, his fingers brushed the metal first, light and respectful. The bracelet hummed more insistently.
Then, by accident or by fate, his skin touched hers, and the world shattered. It wasn’t a spark, it wasn’t lightning, it was warmth, so deep and consuming, like standing in sunlight after a lifetime underground. It was love, pure and unguarded, it was recognition, not of him as a stranger, butas something she'd known before knowing had a name. The sensation cracked open her chest like a bell rung from the inside. It was too fast, too big, too everything. It didn’t hurt, and she didn’t hurt so much, either. It felt like coming home.
Maeve’s breath caught, her eyes shot to his, and she saw it reflected there. He’d felt it too. The bracelet pulsed once, golden and soft, then settled. They didn’t speak, they couldn’t, not right away as he let go carefully, as if reluctantly releasing a thread he wasn’t ready to lose.
Maeve stared at her wrist, it looked the same. Nothing burned, nothing glowed. Yet she felt like she’d just been kissed by the sky itself.
“W-what...” she began, voice barely above a whisper. “What the fuck was that?”
Eiran he looked moved, the face of a man who’d been waiting an eternity for a moment he no longer believed would come.
“That,” he said quietly, “was the beginning.”
“No, seriously. What was that? What have you done to me? Stop being so fucking cryptic.”
The waiter appeared, dropped off Eiran’s espresso, and disappeared again. Neither of them touched their drinks. Eiran observed her as if fascinated.
Her heart was thundering so loud she could barely hear herself think. “Okay, I’ll ask again,” she whispered. “What the bloody hell was that?”
His hand hovered, fingers curled inward slightly, like they still remembered the shape of her, like they missed it already and he exhaled slowly and meeting her eyes. “That,” he said, voice soft and reverent, “was a bond, love.”
Love?
She opened her mouth to correct him but found no words, just the dart of disbelief stuck behind her teeth. Instead she huffed. “A what?”
“A mate bond,” he clarified gently. “Ancient and incredibly rare, a gift from our gods. The kind you can’t refuse, even if you want to. Well, you can, but you shouldn’t really. It’s not a curse, it’s not a trick. It’s a thread, binding two souls for… eternity.”
Then she laughed again, sharp and bitter. “Okay. No. You don’t get to say shit like that with a straight face. That’s not real, that’s imaginary bollocks.”
