He pulled me closer until I could feel his heartbeat against my cheek. Real. Alive.
Mine.
"But I didn't. And you know why?" He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Because the moment I felt you slipping away, felt Marcus's magic burning through our bond, I knew there was no version of existence where I survived losing you. And not just because of the blood bond. So I made a choice. I grabbed that thread and I pulled. All I could think was that you had to live."
I couldn't breathe past the emotion clogging my throat. "I was so scared."
"So you understand why I did it." Not a question. A statement of fact.
And gods help me, I did. If our positions had been reversed, if Elias had been the one trapped in that dimension with Marcus's binding thread wrapped around his wrists, I would have done the exact same thing. Consequences be damned.
We stood there in the morning light, holding each other, and for the first time since this all started, I felt like I could finally breathe.
Then Elias's stomach growled.
We both froze. Then I started laughing. Great, gulping laughs that bordered on hysteria. Elias stared down at his abdomen in betrayal.
"I forgot that happens," he said, sounding genuinely disturbed.
"When did you last eat?"
He thought about it for a minute. "1864? A few hours before Killian turned me."
Over a hundred years. Gods.
"Come on." I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward my tiny kitchen. "I'm making you breakfast."
"I don't even know if I remember how to eat."
"Then you're about to relearn."
I scrounged through my cabinets and fridge, assembling something that resembled a meal. Eggs, toast, some questionable bacon I hoped was still good. Elias watched me cook with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"What?" I asked, cracking eggs into a pan.
"You're taking care of me."
"Of course I am. You literally burned away your immortality for me. The least I can do is feed you."
"No one's taken care of me in..." He trailed off. "A very long time."
Something in his voice made me look at him. Really look at him. Elias had been a vampire for most of his long life—strong, immortal, needing nothing and no one. Before that, he'd been a field medic in a war, taking care of others while his own government betrayed him.
When was the last time someone had simply cared for him? Without expecting anything in return?
I turned off the stove and turned to him. He sat at my small kitchen table that was tucked away in the corner, looking somehow smaller than he had when vampire strength had lined his frame. The transformation had stripped away some of his muscle mass, leaving him leaner. More human. But still devastatingly hot. And honestly, I wouldn't care if he was thin as a rail or if he gained a hundred pounds. Which was good, because either of those was a real possibility now.
"Let me take care of you," I said quietly. "Please."
His throat worked. Then he nodded.
I served him breakfast and watched him take his first bite of solid food in a long, long time. His face went through several expressions. Surprise. Confusion. Then cautious pleasure.
"It's... good," he said, sounding amazed. "I forgot food could taste like this."
"That's because my cooking is amazing."
"Or because everything tastes incredible when you haven't eaten in over a hundred years."
