CHAPTER 17
Shaia had half a mind to turn on her heel, storm back through the building and give Fuery hell for pushing her away. The other half was aware of his pain though, and the fear that had been a constant inside him from the moment she had stepped into his room.
Back into his life.
She had pushed him hard enough for one day.
She hated the way he felt, and the way he thought. She hated the way he pushed her away, seemingly determined to keep his distance from her and not allow her back into his life.
She hated the way he had closed himself off, shutting down their fragile connection.
She hated it all, but she understood why he had done it, and why he was acting the way he was.
When he had been fighting with himself after her confession, she had taken the time to attempt to place herself in his boots, to decipher and understand the feelings she could sense in him through their bond. She had considered how mated males worked, and how he had behaved around her in their brief time together before he had disappeared.
It had led her to one conclusion.
He wanted to protect her.
He had always been fiercely protective of her, had loved her deeply, the sort of love no amount of time apart or together could change. It was a love that burned in her too, as fiercely today as it had the day they had met. No. It had grown stronger over the time they had spent together, and the years they had been apart, forged by the things that had happened into a stronger love, one that was unbreakable.
That same love burned in him. She knew it, had seen it in his corrupted eyes and had felt it in his heart. He loved her.
That love made him scared.
He feared hurting her when the madness seized him.
He feared the way she might look at him when he was gripped by the darkness.
He feared he would break her love for him and she would leave him.
So he had pushed her away.
It hurt.
It cut her deeper than any blade, and she was bleeding inside.
But she understood his reasons.
“Shaia.” Hartt’s deep voice coming from behind her slowed her steps as she reached the grim reception room, and she stopped and looked back at him.
Sorrow shone in his violet eyes.
She looked away from him, because she didn’t want his pity.
Her fight wasn’t over yet.
Fuery hadn’t won.
She wouldn’t give up on him.
She was going to patch up her heart, give him time to loosen the hold his darkness had over him, and then she would be back to fight for him all over again.
She pulled the hood of her cloak up over her hair and bent her head as she started walking again. She didn’t tense as she passed some males in the arched corridor, no longer afraid of them or any at the guild. Fuery pushed her away, but he would fight for her if anyone dared to touch her, and he would kill any who hurt her.
She believed that.
She believed in him.
No matter how fierce the darkness was, no matter how violent it made him, he would never hurt her.
She would find a way to prove that to him.
She ducked out of the arched wooden double doors and quickly crossed the cobbled street to the inn, and hurried past the males lingering in the small tavern area on the ground floor. She swiftly took the steps and didn’t slow until she was closing the door to her room, shutting the world out. She pulled at the ties of her cloak, pooled it into her arms and dropped it on the end of her bed as she passed it, heading for the window.
She settled there, her eyes locking on the wall of the guild, on the point where she knew Fuery’s room was located.
She could feel him.
The connection was weak, but it was there if she pushed, still within her reach, and she knew she could open it again if she wanted. She resisted the temptation. Fuery needed time to come to terms with the fact she was alive, and their reinstated bond.
Hartt was right about that.
Feeling their bond reawaken had triggered an episode in Fuery, giving the darkness power over him, and it was going to take him time to learn how to deal with it and the way his sickness reacted to it. She would give him that time.
It was difficult though.
Minutes trickled past as she sat by the window and stared at the guild, trying to formulate a plan and decide what step to take next. Every second of each minute, she could feel an echo of Fuery’s pain, a glimmer of it through their bond.
Gods, it was hard to remain where she was knowing that Fuery was alone in that damned cell-like room, suffering because of her.
Again.
She brought her knees up, wrapped her arms around them and held them to her chest.
How was she meant to help Fuery when just reawakening their bond had been enough to tip him over the edge and into the darkness?
How was she meant to make Fuery see that he could be with her without fear of hurting her when there was a tiny part of her that feared such a thing happening?
Gods.
She threw her head back and screamed out her frustration, not caring if anyone heard her because she needed to get it all out of her. It was tying her in knots, pulling her in too many directions at once, and she couldn’t take it.
When her voice gave out, she buried her face in her knees.
Deep in her heart, her bond to Fuery flickered, a weak thing that felt as if it might fade away at any moment.
She clung to it, nurtured it in the way Prince Loren had taught her, just enough that it remained, because she needed to feel it, needed the comfort of it to carry her through the dark hours ahead of her.
She needed Fuery.
She turned her head to her right, rested her left cheek on her knees and sighed as she stared at the imposing guild building.
Pain burned in her heart, pulsing stronger with each beat. Her pain. Born of a feeling she couldn’t shake.
Jealousy.
The only reason Fuery was still a part of this world was because he shared a bond with Hartt. That bond ran deeper than the one she shared with her beautiful dark warrior.
Hartt had the bond she wanted with Fuery.
Her ears pricked when a noise came from her left, a soft swishing sound that had her looking towards the door beyond the bed.
She frowned at the small white folded piece of parchment on her floor, uncurled and padded across the room to the door. She bent and picked it up, and unfolded the note.
There was a single sentence on it, written by a neat and elegant hand.
Do not give up on him.
She lowered her gaze and stared at Hartt’s signature, and felt the gravity in those words. They stirred her soul, soothed her aching heart, and gave her strength as they fortified her resolve.
She wouldn’t.
Hartt hadn’t given up on Fuery, and he had been there during Fuery’s darkest times. The male wanted to save his friend.
She wanted to save her mate.
She had been approaching Fuery all wrong. She wasn’t alone in this fight. Hartt was there with her. If they worked together, they could save Fuery. She was sure of it.
Somehow, they would pull Fuery back from the darkness and weaken its hold on him.
Starting with showing him that he wouldn’t hurt her, not even in his blackest rages. She could temper the darkness for him, could be the light he needed.
Proving that to him was going to be easier said than done.
She would need to get Fuery to lower the barriers around his heart and let her in.
Her heart threatened to sink at that.
It was going to take a miracle.