Page 109 of Void of Endings
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Maeve sat on the edge of the bed she shared with Tiernan, vaguely aware of the sound of rushing water coming from the bathing suite.
At some point, she’d stopped crying, but the salt from her tears left stains on her cheeks. She didn’t bother scrubbing them away.
There was a gentle knock on the door, and her heavy gaze lifted to see Deirdre slip quietly into the room. In her arms was a tray with a bowl of dried flowers and a bottle containing some type of milky substance. Maeve watched in silence as she tapped lightly on the partially open door of the bathing suite, then handed the tray off to Tiernan.
Deirdre’s footfalls scraped softly against the hardwood floor as she shuffled over to where Maeve sat. The old woman wrung her dry, weathered hands together in her pale blue apron, twisting the fabric together so it wrinkled.
“Oh, dear heart,” Deirdre murmured, shaking her head. She still wore her hair back in a tidy bun at her neck, but the strands of gray were more prominent now, stealing away most of the brown. Deep-set lines brought on by age and stress were etched into her plump face, and when she reached out to cupMaeve’s cheek, it was as though the line between mortality and immortality had been drawn between them. “You’ve endured so much in the shortness of your life.”
So much, indeed.
Now, Maeve had an eternity to withstand the consequences of her own actions, of her decisions. Assuming she lived past tomorrow.
Deirdre brushed her callused thumb across Maeve’s cheek. “Eventually, the sharp edges of all this pain will dull, and time will slowly stitch together the wounds on your heart. But until then, you must persevere. If you give up now, if you quit on yourself, you won’t ever recover.”
Maeve blinked, staring into Deirdre’s kind eyes.
She’d more or less used those exact words on herself. Perhaps they both had a point. Deirdre gave Maeve a peck on the cheek, winked, then took her leave.
Sighing, she unlaced her boots and tugged them off, discarding them on the floor. She padded barefoot across the hardwood to her vanity and peered at the reflection of herself in the gilded mirror. The warrior, the powerful female she used to know, was slipping from her grasp. If she wasn’t careful, she would lose herself completely.
She peeled off her blouse next and sensed him watching her a second later.
“Maeve.”
Just hearing her name roll off of Tiernan’s tongue set fire to the coldest part of her soul. She looked over to find him lounging against the doorframe, his arms folded across his bare chest. Somehow the sight of him, of knowing he was hers until the very end, would always be enough. He approached her slowly, his hands tenderly coasting up and down her waist.
“Are you alright?” he asked quietly, her flesh pebbling beneath his touch.
“I will be.” She stared at the tattoos marking his chest, the swirls of waves and suns. “Eventually.”
Tiernan slid two fingers beneath her chin, tilting her face up to him. His thumb traced her bottom lip as he whispered, “Stay with me.”
She searched his eyes, wanting nothing more than to lose herself in them, if only for a night. Carefully, she draped one arm over his shoulder and ran her fingers through his dark hair. “I’m right here.”
Tiernan slid one hand lower and hooked his finger in the belt loop of her leggings, tugging her closer to him. He bent his head and lowered his lips to hers. It wasn’t a kiss, he wasn’t asking for anything. A gentle press and nothing more. A reminder. His words were a whisper against her mouth. “Stay with me.”
Maeve inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of him, attempting to ground herself.
Aed’s words tickled the back of her mind.
Find the good.
She’d found Tiernan. He was good. And wonderful. And he loved her. Infinitely.
Maeve leaned in close, moving her lips over his. “I’m here.”
He smiled against her mouth. “That’s my girl.”
Then he lifted her into his arms, carrying her across the room into the bathing suite. Gold light flickered from dozens of candles illuminated with faerie fire. The gilded vanity glittered like broken shards of sunlight while the ornate mirror reflected the two of them together. Battered. Bruised. Recklessly in love. He gently set her down, and it was then she noticed the tub was filled with creamy water—a milk bath—and its surface was scattered with flower petals. The lulling aroma of sweet summer roses filled her, nearly bringing her to tears again as Tiernan carefully helped her to finish undressing.
There was no hungry desire piercing his gaze, no raw lust while he took in every inch of her naked form. All she saw when she looked up into his eyes was the endless depth of a bond forged between two souls that had chosen one another.
Tiernan offered her his hand, and she stepped into the tub, sinking low into the warm, milky water as he settled in behind her.
With a tenderness that melted away the anguish tormenting her, he cleansed her body. Her spirit. Her soul. He lathered her hair, working his way through the knots and tangles of her curls, rinsing away the remnants of all she longed to forget. His hands slid over her shoulders and down to her arms, pulling her against him, and she leaned into the embrace, nestling herself against his pure strength.
