Page 136 of Threaded

It was the sound of his voice.

So broken, so filled with pain and emotion and reverence she felt her knees begin to shake.

It sounded like a prayer.

She felt Feran go instantly alert beside her as the energy shifted in the air, his curiosity poking at her senses down the still-new bond they shared. While he was learning how this new link between their minds worked, she’d grown fairly comfortable with it, and was able to compose herself enough to send feelings of assurance back to him. He turned his head to look at her, staring for a few more seconds than necessary, before brushing past her. Feran strode past where Andrian stood frozen in the hallway, shooting him a hard look before disappearing past the bend.

And then it was just her. And him. Alone.

“Mariah,” he repeated, his voice hoarse from disuse or emotion; she couldn’t be sure which.

Especially since she hadn’t seen him since that day on the balcony when he’d left her, shattered and broken and alone.

“I thought you’d left me.” It was all she could think to say, the only words her mind would give her.

Hurt was always the first emotion to manifest itself when challenged, much like a desperate animal cornered by a pack of hungry wolves.

His answer was so quiet, she almost missed it.

“I thought I had, too.”

Mariah felt her hands begin to shake.

The movement must’ve caught his attention, because his intense gaze finally broke from hers and dropped to where her hands were now firmly clenched into fists by her side. Her whole body trembled, but she wasn’t sure from what: from fear, anger, hate, joy, or … something else entirely.

Something she couldn’t think about. Not yet.

It was a weakness she knew she could never allow, but was worming its way in, regardless.

Andrian lifted his gaze to meet hers once more. He took a tentative step forward, and then another, as if she were an animal in risk of fleeing if he moved too fast.

In a way, she supposed she was.

“Mariah.” Her name again, along with another step. “I need to talk to you.” A step. “Ihaveto talk to you.” Step. “There are things I … I have to tell you.”

That last step brought him within an arm’s length of her. She could see the purple rings beneath his glowing blue eyes, the shadow of stubble on his chin so unlike his usual, clean-shaven appearance. It made him even more impossibly attractive.

Even in the turmoil of her emotions, annoyance poked up its spiked head at the observation. He’dhurther. Devastated her. It didn’t matter how beautiful he was.

Not anymore.

She met his gaze, clenching her jaw with renewed resolve. It was then she saw something in his eyes that she’d never seen before.

Desperation.

“Please, let me talk to you.” His final plea was no more than a whisper, his voice raw and aching and just enough to fully wrench Mariah’s heart from her chest.

“Okay,” was all she could muster in response.

Relief washed over Andrian’s face like a tidal wave. He reached out a hand and gripped hers, unfurling her clenched fingers and clasping them in his. He began to draw her forward, toward the double doors of her suite.

And … she let him.

She let him push open the gilded wood and shoulder his way into the foyer, gently pulling her behind him. Let him close the doors, never once loosening his grip on her hands. Let him guide her further into the open living space, into the kitchen, up to the white and gold marble of the island. Let him turn and grip her firmly around the waist and lift her, as if she weighed nothing, setting her gently atop the counter.

Distantly, she remembered the first time they’d been like this: her sitting on the countertop, him standing between her thighs, words exchanged like daggers thrown through the air.

A promise of a sole distraction.