Page 53 of War Of Fire and Fortune
The raw anguish in his tone cleaved through me, and without hesitation, I reached out, my fingers coiling around his forearm and pulling him into me.
"Easy," I signed, and he laid his head on my shoulder. His labored breaths were hot and quick against my neck. He was on the verge of a panic attack, and I needed him to calm down. The bracelet on his wrist, an intricate weave of metal and leather, radiated heat that seeped through the fabric of my tunic. A curious warmth, like the embers of a hearth fire. It seemed to grow hotter, and slowly Cyran’s breathing steadied.
Moments passed, and we just stayed like that. I refused to move first or leave him like this. When Cyran finally pulled back, his eyes were still full of emotion but he wasn’t crying anymore.
"I'm sure he's alive," I signed with conviction. "He is one of Ember's princes after all."
Cyran lifted his gaze to mine then. He raised his arm, the one adorned with the bracelet.
"I know he's alive. He's my mate. I'd know if he was gone." The bracelet seemed to pulse between us. I could almost feel it in the air.
"But also because he gave me this." He touched the bracelet reverently, the warmth from the metal seeping into his skin. "It’s imbued with his fire. He told me as long as it’s warm, he’s alive. He gave it to me as a comforting thing before he left."
Cyran's fingers curled around the bracelet, holding it like a lifeline as his voice softened. "I haven't taken it off."
Something so simple but so touching. My chest tightened, the weight of everything pressing down, but before I could sink too far into it, I let out a shaky breath and gave a crooked smile.
"You know," I signed lightly, "once this is over, maybe we should all get matching bracelets. Real rebel vibes."
The corner of Cyran’s mouth tugged upward despite himself. Trust me to break the heaviness with a joke, to remind him that we were still standing, still together, and that we would get through all of this. It was just going to take a little more time.
“We will save him," I started. "We'll wait until Kade has his strength back and gather as much info as we can between now and then. We just have to be patient."
Cyran's jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he might argue, might let his desperation to act override sense. But then slowly, he nodded. His eyes lingered on mine, a silent thank you before I turned on my heel and left.
The night air clung to me, cool and moist, as I navigated through the maze of shelters that housed our rebellion. I made it to my tent and pushed open the flap, not expecting Luana to be back yet, but she was. In the muted light, I could see the rise and fall of her chest, the gentle curve of her hip, the untamed curls of her hair splayed across the pillows. This woman was a constant reminder of what I was fighting for, and she was fully naked and waiting for me.
"Too much?" Luana asked, her lip catching between her teeth. My cock was straining against my trousers.
"Never," I signed as a growl crawled from my chest. The scent of her skin, heady and sweet, lured me closer. I sank to my knees at the foot of the bed. I wanted to worship her with my lips. I kissed her ankle, tracing upward to her calf.
Her upper thighs welcomed me next, one side then the other, my stubble grazing her skin, eliciting a soft hum from her. That sound—so filled with pleasure—was lightning in my veins, igniting a fire no darkness could smother. My need for her was relentless, consuming; it was the pulse of the earth beneath us, the thrum of life itself.
"Luana," I signed, groaning against her skin, "you undo me." And she did. Every curve, every breath, every defiant spark inher eyes—she was beauty incarnate, a light in our twisted world. She wasmine.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Emelyn
"Come in." Shay's voice sounded through the small opening. Pushing aside the fabric, I stepped into the dimly lit tent, the air thick with the scent of herbs and food. Glancing around, I saw there were crocheted blankets, baskets of fruits and dried meats, and gifts scattered around from soldiers and other mothers coming to pay their respects to Shay, her new babe, and the loss of Emeris. It had been almost two weeks since the ambush and the rebellion had been hard at work trying to find their routines again.
Shay was a cradle of warmth amidst the gloom, her babe nestled securely in her arms. A pang of ache lanced through me as I took in the sight. She looked so fragile, so drained, yet therewas undeniable strength in the way she held herself and her baby.
I crossed the distance between us with tentative steps and sat beside her on the bed. My arm wrapped around her shoulders without a word, pulling her into an embrace that tried to stitch together the frayed edges of our reality.
She sniffled against my chest, a soft sound muffled by the fabric of my tunic. "Would you like to hold her?" Shay asked, her voice barely above a whisper, eyes glistening with unshed tears but also something else—happiness. Shay was glowing as she held her baby girl in her arms.
"Yes," I breathed out. Carefully, I cradled the tiny babe in my arms. She was so light, so impossibly small, and my hands trembled with the fear of harming something so perfect and pure.
Shay's smile was like the first break in a relentless storm, letting through a sliver of light that promised the return of the sun. I met her gaze, finding solace in the shared understanding of loss and love, all encapsulated in the fragile life I held against my chest.
"So, what's her name?" My finger traced the delicate curve of her forehead. Her skin was a lighter brown than Shay’s, and as she looked at me, she revealed her father’s eyes, a beautiful shade of blue, with her perfect little ears coming to little points and tight, light brown curls atop her head. She was the perfect mix of both of them.
"Emeris," Shay replied, her voice swelling with pride that seemed to fill the cramped space of the tent. The single word reverberated through my heart. I blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears.
I pressed my lips together, swallowing down the lump in my throat. Emeris would have trotted around with glee, knowing Shay had named their baby after her. In her honor. The namewas like a promise that even in the darkest of times, we remembered and cherished those who’d fought beside us.
"I think that's perfect," I murmured, the words a whisper between us. Our eyes, heavy with unshed tears, lingered on the babe, just taking in all of her little details as if committing them to memory.
