Chapter 643: Mean What You Say
RETH
Reth couldn't watch them cut his beautiful mate, couldn't stand to see her blood spilled, to imagine the pain, or the possible consequence of his demands.
So instead, he closed his eyes and focused on Elia's hand—the skin on her palm, which was harder now than it had been when she'd first arrived in Anima. And he tuned his ears to her heartbeat. Did he imagine that it was stronger than it had been a moment ago?
There was little sound in the room for several seconds, until Aymora hissed a curse. Reth closed his fingers tighter on Elia's and prayed. Prayed as he had never prayed before.
Soon, he could feel warmth creeping into Elia's palm and his heart beat faster—bringing Elia's with it, that delicate thrub, thrub, thrub coming quicker.
Reth's head spun and his heart clenched, but it was little more than a flutter. As Aymora hissed instructions to Jayah, Reth didn't allow himself to think of all that could go wrong, or of how perilously close to death his mate was, his daughter. Instead he turned his mind back to the moments he loved—all the moments he hadn't had time to talk to Elia about. Something he would rectify when she was well.
He let those memories feed his heart and nourish his blood, willing it to strengthen and nourish her in turn.
He wasn't sure if he spoke, but though he couldn't see her, he could feel Elia there with him, listening, as she had been in the dream when they were torn apart.
Words were unnecessary, he realized. And so he simply showed her the precious moments he'd treasured in his heart.
His mind tripped back to those days in the forest when they were children… the way his heart would trip when he knew she would return from school and he could find her, take her hand and lead her into the trees behind their houses.
Their play had been childlike and innocent, but looking back as a man—as a mate—he saw the draw she'd held for him even then. The fascination with her smile. The fierce desire to protect.
Those months of his childhood were golden memories, the moments they had together in the never-silence of the forest… The log he'd dragged to their "fort" as she called it, for her to sit on. The way she smiled when he showed her the delicate skeleton of a leaf he'd found. The way her hair, golden and longer then that it was now, fell forward when she leaned down to peer at it.
The warmth of her hand on his shoulder—the thoughtless, unselfconscious touching of children. And the way he'd leaned into it, even then.
He remembered the night of the Rite, when—despite her confusion and terror—she'd fought for him. Staring down Aymora and Huncer and the other females of the pride to claim him. The pride he'd felt in her, knowing her weakness of body, but strength of heart.
And then the night she'd become his in truth.
A tiny whine seeped from his throat as his mind took him back, to this very room… the flash of her, in her innocence, clinging to his arm, and his neck, cries she couldn't stop breaking in her throat at the peak of each thrust.
"Mine," he'd whispered savagely against her neck as she threw her head back, her breath tearing out of her throat. "My mate. My wife. Only mine."
He'd never been the same since that moment. And never desired anything, or anyone more.
He opened his eyes then, turning his head to find Elia facing him, her chin down and hair falling across her cheek. He yearned to reach for those feathers of hair, to push them back, to take her face in his hand, to see her eyes open and find his, her smile lighting within them before it reached her lips—
"Shit. SHIT." Aymora cursed. "She's bleeding so badly. Jayah, clamp the pipes, we can't—"
Jayah sighed and reached for the connection between him and Elia. But Reth caught her hand and their eyes locked. He shook his head. Jayah was still for a moment, but then eased back, eyeing Aymora, who was so focused on Elia's stomach, she hadn't noticed that Jayah had disobeyed her.
Aymora lifted the blade for a moment, its edge glinting silver and glistening red and Reth was thrown back into his memories again, but this time to the day he'd watched the enemy try to gut his mate and almost succeed in taking her from him.
To those endless, terrifying hours of carrying her through the forest, away from the wolf-encampment, certain he was about to lose her—and almost had.
She'd been almost as pale, and just as lifeless that day.
Reth's heart surged, stuttering and throbbing in his chest and he closed his eyes against tears. He couldn't give in, couldn't let himself lose hope. He had to bleed his hope into Elia, his certainty. He had to bring her with him when she was here, so vulnerable, and unable to bring herself.
She'd almost been lost to him that day, but he had vowed. Here in this room, with her body pressed against the wall she had sighed and buried her fingers in his hair, then clutched at his shoulders when he dropped, kneeling before her.
Hands on her hips, he laid his forehead on her stomach and just… rested.
Her chest rose and fell quickly, but she swallowed, bringing her arms around to hold his head. "Reth?"
"I vow to you," he whispered, laying a kiss on her belly, "No matter where you are, no matter what lies before you, I will stand for you."
"Reth, I—"
"My Kingdom, my body, my life… My last breath for yours."
"Reth, stop, you don't need to—"
"The very last drop of my blood, so that yours might not be spilled."
A tiny sob caught in her throat and she clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
He laid another kiss at her stomach and inhaled. "And if ever I should… should leave you, if ever you should lose me… I will call down the Creator Himself to protect you and watch over our child."
She shook once.
He took his head from her stomach and looked up then into her shining eyes. "Mine," he whispered. Then he kissed her stomach again. "You too, little one."
And he had meant it.
*****
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