Page 74 of A Bond so Fierce and Fragile
Not that it mattered. Lessia and Merrick didn’t look up as he made his way over to his own ship, and he could still see theirsilhouettes standing in the same position when he sank down against the upper cabin.
Pressing his hands to his aching chest, he thought perhaps he had lied to Lessia back there.
He didn’t have any hope of finding what she had. And even if he did, he didn’t want it.
Because that meant he would risk feeling like this again.
Chapter 14
Merrick
Merrick had to physically restrain himself from whirling around and taking her somewhere he could protect her, distracting her forever, when he heard Lessia’s soft sobs as she bid Amalise, Ardow, and the rest goodbye before her friends returned to Loche’s ship.
While Lessia, her sister, Kerym, and Thissian were still injured, all of them needing rest, ideally for a long, long time… there wasn’t any time left.
The threat of the rebels hung over the group like a heavy storm cloud, and he noticed several hunched shoulders amongst the group as they settled onto the respective ships: Venko’s worried face even as he reunited with Ardow; the guard Zaddock’s constant hovering around Amalise, and the hand he kept on his sword, ready for an attack at any moment; Loche’s worried gaze flitting to the north ever so often—filled with unease for his nation, which lay there.
Even those talkative sisters were quiet, although he did notice Pellie throw some suggestive comments Kerym’s way and the Fae responding in kind, albeit in a more subdued way than his friend usually spoke.
Merrick nodded to the dark-haired Fae brothers as they walked over to the regent’s ship, but when he caught Thissian’s eyes, he quickly looked away. In his blues swam a mixture of sorrow, fear, and pity as they flicked between himself and his mate.
A shudder racked the Death Whisperer’s shoulders.
Thissian had never been one to hide his feelings.
He’d openly wept on the battlefields when they were younger, disregarding how their commanders would sneer about it, because of how much he hated the waste that wartime death was.
He’d been seen as the weakest of the four of them for it, but Merrick wasn’t convinced that was true.
To allow yourself to feel that utterly and completely…
Merrick shook his head.
Brave.
That’s what it was.
Brave and strong.
He allowed himself a glance toward Lessia, eyeing her when she pulled Frelina close and quickly lowered her shoulders when her sister stared unseeing out across the others leaving—falling right into the older-sibling role she must have played growing up—and wondered for a moment if he’d be able to be as strong as Thissian.
Because right now…
Right now, he felt like begging Raine for one of his flasks and drowning himself in it as that burning sensation that had become worryingly familiar rose behind his eyes again.
He couldn’t lose her.
He just… he fucking couldn’t.
He’d promised to keep her safe. He’d promised to always be there—be whatever she needed him to be.
A protector.
A friend.
A trainer.
A lover.
