The Winter

Chapter 15

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

If something is destroyed, how can it still be saved?

Chapter 15

"She's back."

A hand cupped the back of my head, tilting it up, and I felt something grooved touch my bottom lip, warm liquid sloshing against the rim.

"Drink."

I obeyed. Swallowing the earthy tasting water in huge gulps. It got rid of the awful taste lingering on my tongue, and wet my dry throat. Heat spread from my chest outwards, and it was then I felt how freezing my fingers and toes were, so much so they burned. My head pounded and darkness hid my sight, swirling shadows swelling and throbbing in time with my stuttering heart.

"I can't see."

A growl rumbled from my left.

Suddenly aware of Hati's presence, alongside Eirny by my right leg, I tipped my head towards where I guessed he stood, the spot I could sense the air fizzling with a anger, tainted by the sour smell of fear.

The hand behind my head lowered down my back to help me sit up properly against the wooden headboard, and the movement brought an ache to my chest. My hand flew to the spot. The very spot I had a vague recollection of being shoved by a woman who looked like a dreaded Sluagh; eerily beautiful even with one half of her face rotted away.

Had I had my first meeting with Hel? Was the fact I could remember everything that had happened mean I was beginning to exert a measure of control over my power?

I swallowed.

If I'd known what I would learn, if I'd known I'd have Mànas torn from my hands again, and learn more about what I was, would I have decided to listen to Hati and stay away?

The goddess had told me she would see me again soon, whether it was to return souls to Náströnd or some other reason; and I could only think of one. I should have found relief that part of my path was clear, that I was to rid the world of Blood Drinkers. But at what cost to myself?

Panic swelled like a tidal wave, more crushing than the force that dragged my soul through veils and realms. A vice gripped around my throat and I suddenly I was wheezing, one hand pressed against my bruised chest while the other tried to claw away what wrapped round my throat. I could hear muffled voices but not what was said, and then the scalding heat of a branding iron tearing my hand away from my throat.

"There's nothing there, Eabha, listen to me. You're hurting yourself, there's nothing there. It's a side effect from being among the dead, an illusion, nothing more. Breathe." The bed dipped, and a male thigh brushed up against my own. Hati's voice was soft, spellbinding as he forced his presence to be felt through my panic. Fingers squeezed my wrist, releasing slowly before sliding up my arm, over my shoulder, and up my neck to cup my cheek. "I have you, my female."

His eyes were the first thing that returned to my sight.

Two orbs of burning fire chased away the darkness until my mate's face came into view, as stricken as it was furious.
I hiccuped. The expression faltered. And when I flung myself against his chest with heaving sobs, he melted. Comforting noises rumbled from his chest as his fingers rubbed at the roots of my hair, his other arm locked tight around me, as if to prove he was there, that I was safe. I couldn't get close enough. Couldn't get warm enough no matter how I nuzzled against him.

The judgement of the Gods. It's you. They whisper that it's you.

Would he hold me so close if he knew?