Maeve.
Carson’s arms were around me when the night fell quiet, his body warm, his lips brushing my hair as he whispered promises I wanted to believe. His voice was low, steady, strong, saying he would never let me go, saying I was his, saying nothing could take me from him. I lay still against him, breathing in the sound of his words, letting them sink deep.
But the bond told me something else.
It pulsed weak, heavy, uncertain. Each beat carried his love, yes, but also his fear, his doubt, his silence. He kissed me like a man afraid of losing me, but he held me like a man already slipping away.
I shut my eyes, willing the bond to steady, willing his fire to stay strong, but no matter how tight I held him, no matter how much I pressed against him, the cracks in him did not vanish.
When
