Page 102 of Blood Moon
“It’s fine,” I whispered. “I’m fine.” Anything was better than death.
Julian brought my hand to his lips, breathed me in. As the sunlight cut beams of light across his face, he looked down at me, seeing me in daybreak for the first time since we were in the tent in the woods. “Mirabella,” he uttered, and he pulled me into him. “I’m so, so, so sorry.”
There, in the warmth of him, captured by his arms, I sobbed. My body grew lethargic as I let all of it go, and he held me up. We leaned into each other, twisting like swans, twisting like centuries-old trees until I couldn’t feel the ground below me, the sky above me, the wind and rain around me. He was everywhere, filling everything.
Teardrops landed on my scalp as his ribs stammered, and I had a plethora of words digging a hole inside me, but all I could concentrate on was the fact that there was breath in my lungs, a thudding heart in my chest, and I was alive.
At some point, Julian pulled me away from him, grasping my swollen face in his hands, clearing my tears with his thumbs as he peered at me with those dark gold eyes, a brush of scarlet still there.
He closed the distance between us, pressing his lips to mine. The kiss was long and hard, giving oxygen to our brokenness until our mouths bruised with yearning, souls hissed with fervor. It only confirmed the deep connection I felt for him … until my longing simmered into violence, until rage coiled tightly around my lips.
Julian had lied to me.
He’d lured me in, been untruthful about his intentions. He’d twisted tales, convinced me that he cared. For all the while, he’d intended to sacrifice me under a Blood Moon.
I broke away from the kiss feeling physically ill. “Julian,” I cried between our lips, and I was so sick of crying. So tired of this inadequate circle of grief and despair. So tired of the thorns and blood and mess we kept falling into.
Julian’s face was damp as he kissed my temple, my forehead, my eyelids, my cheeks, and then my lips again. “I’m sorry,” he kept whispering into my mouth, trying to change the bitter air into something sapid. “I’m so, so sorry.”
I kissed him back, stolen by the idea that this could erase it all, that this feeling—being his fated mate—could thread us together for as long as time stretched. But the vision behind my eyes scared me. All my demons looked like him now.
I pulled away, Julian’s hands in the air, a perfect imprint of where he’d been holding me. On impulse, I threw a punch. He caught it, palm folding around my knuckles, but the hit sent him back a few steps.
Didn’t realize how strong I’d become. He returned to me, arms extended for embrace. To take me in, to be swallowed by the depths of him, but when my hands met his chest, I shoved him. Julian stumbled back.
I grabbed at the sides of my gown, stepped away. “You lied to me, Julian,” I exclaimed. “You betrayed me,” I said, the words merely an utterance, and his face warped in agony as he watched me fall apart. “Everything I know about you, about us, was a ploy. A scheme. Being your fated mate was the only thing that saved me, wasn’t it?”
He extended a hand. “Mira, I—”
Another step back. “It was, wasn’t it? If we weren’t destined to be together, I’d be dead, wouldn’t I?” Julian held his hands out again, tried to explain himself, and I let him speak, but not a single comprehensible statement was formed. “You led me to be slaughtered, and I trusted you!”
Closer again he came, knees bending, brows twisted with anguish. “Wait,no.Mira, I can explain.” I waited, but the only thing that spoke was the sky as it parted the clouds to bring rain. “Where do I even start …”
“The beginning. You knew this whole time that the Blood Lycans wanted me dead. It’s why you wanted me to leave, right? And when you couldn’t get me to leave, you played me like a puppet, won my trust until you had me right where you wanted me, so that you could fulfill whatever Alpha duties you had.”
“That’s not entirely true, I—”
“Were youeveron my side Julian? The woods, the weekend we spent together, the tent? Were the wolves ever after me at homecoming, or was that part of this scheme, too?”
“I am on your side, Mira. I am. And those wolveswereafter you. We didn’t conjure that. The Fullbloods, they’ve been in deep shit, and we haven’t figured out why they’ve killed people in the city, or why they’re after you. We just knew they wanted you as much as we did, presumably for revenge … since your lineage can be traced back to the Elites. And I’m ashamed that some of the reasons I got to know you were against my better judgment. It was immoral, and you have every right to be pissed at me.”
“It’s sick, you know that.” I backed away, throat so tight I had to gasp for air. “I can’t with you. You put me through enough, and if I look at you for another second, I don’t know what I’ll do next,” I said, because nothing could prepare me for this. He was my fatal flaw, and would continue to be if I allowed him.
And in truth, I had always been mine before I was ever anyone else’s.
When I turned my back to him, Julian shouted, “I didn’t save you because we’re destined to be together!” he said, and I paused, wiped away rain and tears.
“I did it because I was dishonest, because I messed up. Because I was ruining the one good thing in my life. Ialwaysknew you shouldn’t be up there, and I got caught up. I let them get in my head, and I never stopped to process what was being asked of me.
“I did it because once I got to know you, I knew I’d crawl through centuries, seek the void of a forgotten world, restless and beaten, to keep you,” he said, and I heard him edge closer. “I did it to prove to myself that I’m not a terrible person,” he whispered. “I’m not a monster, and I know that these outdated treaties and rules are filled with hate that should be overthrown.” Close as he could get now, chest to my back, his heart thudding against my shoulder. “And I did it because I was falling for you before I ever had your blood on my lips. Only now, youareeverything.”
Julian leaned down to press his head to the side of mine. To wrap his hands around my waist, to kiss my temple, to turn me to see him. “And I look at you, Mira, and I am terrified of what I’d do for you. Of the wars I’d wage to make sure you’re always safe. Because you deserve that endlessly, and you need to know that you are worthy of love.” His fingers stroked the side of my face. “And I promise to do whatever it takes to make sure you are reminded of that day in and day out.”
My vision muddled, and he kissed the side of my head, the apple of my cheek, the line of my jaw. “Every day,” he swore. “You are my life now.”
I clung to his arms, wondering if it was supposed to hurt this much. Should love be open wounds and sharp teeth? Would it not stain my fingers and tongue like a pomegranate, drip down my chin like blood, consume me whole and spit me out if I continued this way?
To him, I was merely a duty to fulfill.
