Page 61 of Bound By Prophecy (Descendants)

“Oh, Emily,” I breathed. “She should never have done that. Brendan, the others, if they know she has this—”

She held up a hand, stopping me again. “It isn’t like that, Aern. They already suspected she had a gift, but they don’t know. They don’t truly understand.” She glanced around the room, and I could tell she was speaking with caution. “They simply think she can help them recover faster. That’s all.”

Her eyes spoke more than her words could. None of them knew she was a prophet. None of them knew she could affect their sway. They didn’t know how their mother had died, that Brianna could give them Morgan’s power. That Emily was the chosen.

She let me process the information for a very long time, sitting silently before me, hand still resting patiently within mine. After everything that had happened, everything that could still come about, she was here.

The scope of it all fell into place. I was one of them, one of the monsters she’d been warned her whole life to stay away from, to protect Brianna from, and she had risked everything to save me. I yearned to draw her closer, to touch her face once more, gods, to press my lips to hers. But it was a betrayal.

I gripped her shoulders, placing her several inches back from where I sat. The action troubled her, but I held firm. “Emily,” I said, “there is something I have to tell you. I should have told you long ago.” My chest tightened. This was going to crush her. “It was about Brianna.” I rubbed a hand over my forearm. “But now it concerns you.”

She waited, distress playing across her features.

“The reason Morgan wanted Brianna—” Gods, how did I explain this? “The way that he needs her…”

Emily nodded. “The prophecy. They would create a union.”

“A bond,” I said. “An actual, tangible link.”

She moved closer. “I know, Aern. I understand. But Morgan will never have me.”

I stiffened, completely thrown by her words. By the idea of Morgan… “No,” I said, pushing her back. “That’s not what I’m trying to say.”

She stayed this time, waiting for me to finish.

“Not Morgan,” I explained. “The Division. The reason they want me, the reason they’ve been after me for so long”—I found my gaze wandering, focusing on anything but the expression on her face—“is that they’ve read the prophecy differently.” My throat went dry. “They think that the union, this bond, can be created by any heir to the dragon’s name. By either Morgan…” My eyes met hers. “Or me.”

She sat silent for an eternity of seconds, then said, “I know.”

I stared at her. And then, “What?”

“I know,” she said. “My mother told me, some time ago.” She shrugged. “I just didn’t think it would be me, is all.” Her voice dropped lower. “But it is me. And I’m glad, Aern. I’m glad that it is me, and that it’s you.”

A rush of emotion, too fast, too broad to sort into anything, surged through me, and I was moving for her. She had known. All along, she had known.

I pulled her into my embrace, and she drew tighter against me. She had been waiting for this, since I had found her mark, she had accepted it. Her arms around my shoulders, I pressed my lips hard against hers, regaining all of those moments I’d denied myself the touch, and she melted into me, her breath a soft moan of relief. The kiss was deep, fire and passion and unpinned desire. My hands slid lower down her back, squeezing her to me, and she slid her legs over mine. She smelled of sweet pea and strawberries, and something all her own.

Her head tilted back as she tried to catch her breath and I trailed kisses down the line of her neck, stopping just above her chest, at the tiny divot centering her collarbone, to collect myself. She was mine, she was in my arms, and she was mine.

My hand slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, finding the heat of her lower back as my mouth skimmed over her throat on its return to hers. The kiss became gentle, teasing, and soft. My hand slid over the length of her thigh, and then up, touching the skin between her open collar, the pulse hammering at the base of her neck, and into the caramel waves of her hair. Her eyes came open, hazy and gratified, and the soft, deep green of the sea. Our lips drew apart and we simply watched one another, both of us knowing we could stare into these eyes forever, and then it happened. And it was a coming home.

It was peace, settling deep within my chest, a feeling of rightness. It made me whole, and it threatened to tear me apart. A longing so intense it was painful tore at me, and I knew I would never get enough of her. I could never leave her. It would always be Emily.

Emily.

I realized I’d spoken then, murmured her name, and she gasped.

“Did you feel that?” she whispered.

We sat pressed together, face to face, but it was as if our souls were suddenly seamed, bound so tightly as to be one.

“It’s the bond,” I said.

She stared at me in stunned astonishment. “It’s like, like my insides are tied.”

I automatically gave her space. “Is that what it feels like to you?”

I could hear the worry in my tone, and I realized I’d been afraid of what it would be for her. None of the elders had known how the bond would affect the chosen, what it would do to one without our power.

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