Page 86 of The Dragons’ Eternal Mate

I couldn’t decide how I felt, numbness and heat making me feel fuzzy at the edges. Bastian pulled me against him and held me tightly, the protective cage of his arms necessary. I needed that pressure, that hard reminder that I wasn’t alone in the grass. That I was safe. After a few silent moments, I wound my arms around him.

Had I killed Cyrus? I thought I had. The sight of him convulsing on the ground wasn’t one I was soon to forget, but when Bastian had torn his throat out⁠—

God, he really did that.

That visceral scene played out behind my eyelids as I squeezed them closed. Still, he’d ended it.

When he’d turned to me with that small smile, an overwhelming sense of relief hit me. A burden had been taken off my shoulders, one I wasn’t prepared to carry. I could breathe easier.

Bastian had done that… for me.

The gravity of his actions hit me.

This dragon had killed his father just to stop me from feeling the burden of being the one to do it. Well, it wasn’t the only reason, but it’d certainly been the most pressing.

My hands fisted in his shirt as I buried my face in his neck. His hand—the one stained with his father’s blood—came up to cup the back of my head.

“Thank you,” I whispered in a small, broken voice.

Bastian exhaled, kissing the top of my head, the touch startlingly gentle after everything I had just witnessed.

“I would do anything for you, Rowan. We all would.” He sucked in a deep breath that trembled. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you,” I murmured, kissing his neck lightly.

We were still for a moment before I dropped my forehead to Bastian’s chest, intent on inspecting Cyrus’s body. I wanted to check, once again, that he really was gone.

Multiple emotions swirled around in my gut: guilt over what I had done, but also relief and vindication. This man had tried to kill me six years ago, tried to kill me just a few minutes ago. And now he was lying at my feet, dead, killed by his own son who despised him.

“We won,” I whispered.

Bastian chuckled. “Hell yes, we won. We will always win. You understand that?”

“I think I do now…” I admitted, turning to look at Cyrus.

“Don’t.” Bastian’s voice was firm, and the hand cupping the back of my head kept me in place. “You don’t need to see that. The bastard is gone. That’s all that matters.”

My arms wove around him, squeezing tightly. “I trust you.”

For some reason, that hit harder than saying I love you.

Trust.

It wasn’t something that came easily to me, but I trusted Bastian and every member of my clan wholeheartedly. Even more, I trusted myself. I’d handled an attack. I’d stood up for myself and fought. Now, I really knew I could.

We must have been standing there for at least ten minutes when a dragon landed in the clearing. Yellow-brown scales and wide eyes.

Nix.

He shifted back with ease, storming over to us, not a single care for the fact he was butt naked; his only concern was me.

“Rowan!” he shouted, rushing closer until he reached for me.

Bastian’s hands tightened around me, and a small growl escaped him as Nix tugged me out of his arms to check me over.

“I’m fine,” I insisted—it was probably hard to believe, given I was a sobbing mess.

“What the hell happened?”