Page 25 of A Bond so Fierce and Fragile
Gladly.
We’ll kill them all.
The souls pressed all around him, and since the deck was empty save for Zaddock—who should be at the helm steering, as it was his turn to guide them through the night—Merrick didn’t bother leashing them.
Their roaring whispers joined the waves crashing against the port side, and Merrick understood why Lessia had screamed at the top of her lungs that night on the ship.
His entire body buzzed with wild, untamed energy—the feeling so foreign he clasped the railing and leaned over, as if the depths of the sea might have an answer to what the fuck he was supposed to do.
Merrick cursed when the water drops spraying his face did little more than rile him further, pushing those souls to spread out from the ship, their whispers reaching farther and farther, perhaps even deep into the sea to scare whatever swam beneath them.
He swore loudly again as a wave of sticky helplessness rippled across his skin.
Before he’d met this wildly loyal, pure, kind, intelligent, and beautiful woman, little had been able to provoke him.
He hadn’t cared enough after everything that happened to Raine and the others, believing the punishment of being blood-sworn to the Fae king was sufficient to compensate for the pain his friends lived with day and night.
But now?
Gods, he couldn’t fucking stand it.
He had no idea how Raine did it.
How Kerym was alive.
How Thissian still set one foot in front of the other.
Lessia wasn’t even dead, and it still was as if she’d ripped out everything that made sense within him, as if she’d taken every other reason to live.
He was hers.
Fully and entirely.
And if she didn’t exist…
The whispers turned to bellows.
Neither would this world.
We’ll wipe all Havlands out.
Kill every soul and bring them over to us.
Create a new world in the shadows.
We’ll rule there together—make your mate our queen.
Merrick finally reined them in slightly.
He fucking hoped not.
If he had to continue dealing with these assholes when he was dead…
That thought alone was enough to quell the final whispers, driving up the veil, or whatever it was, that kept them away from the living side.
Footsteps thudded in the silence that followed, but Merrick didn’t turn around as the scent he’d come to hate—the one he could barely stand after it had enveloped Lessia during the election—drifted across the deck.
“Careful, regent. I’m plotting how I’m going to kill everyone who’s ever hurt her, and you’re high on the list.” Merrick kept his gaze on the light starting to break over the horizon as Loche sidled up beside him.
