Page 118 of Bound By the Sleeper’s Harp

I snatched the harp.

Everything was chaotic. I didn’t know if it would work, didn’t know if Marsh had to be the one to do it, or if anyone could pluck the strings. He lay there blinking. I took hold of his wrist, dragging his fingers across the twelfth string. He hissed and snatched his hand away. The specters filling the warehouse vanished.

40

Icollapsed to my hands and knees, letting the harp lay where I left it, struggling to get air. Fumbling with my T-shirt, I pulled it up, baring my abdomen. All I found was a red line where the blade had driven through my body. I touched it and winced, still tender.

Again, a strange theory floated through my mind. I was Bastian’s mate. And Bastian was some kind of immortal fae supernatural. Did that tie us together in…other ways?

“Rose Kennedy? Elle? Eleanor!” Christian’s voice cut through the chaos. Voices weren’t yelling commands anymore. Several people rushed in around Marsh, cursing when they saw who he was. They put cuffs on him, keeping their guns drawn.

“Christian,” I warned, “it’s Marsh. Marsh Thadur. He’s fae.”

Christian fell to his knees beside me, saw my blood, and cursed under his breath. “You’re okay?” he asked. I nodded. He turned to the others who were lifting Marsh off the ground. “Keep him well guarded. He’s supernatural. Fuck. We need Bastian for this shit⁠—“

“WHERE IS SHE?!” A voice roared, shaking the walls. Bastian. It had worked. He must have transported himself straight here once I’d freed his specter, using a decent portion of whatever magic he’d saved.

I spotted him then, his eyes glued to me, sprinting across the warehouse, pushing people aside to get to me. Christian stood up, took a step back—smart man. Bastian fell to his knees, pulling me into his arms, eyes wide as he took in the blood. His mouth crashed over my lips, kissing me, holding me tight to him. I whimpered. The tightness fled my muscles and I burst into tears. He was here. He was okay.

We were okay.

“Shh. Shh. Baby girl, it’s okay. Fuck. You were so brave. So fucking brave.” He held me, rocking me back and forth. He fumbled with my shirt, pulling it up and checking the wound. His eyes darted back and forth before settling on my face. “The mate bond,” he said. “I didn’t realize. Fuck.” He dragged a hand over his face. “Thank fuck.”

I’d never heard him so relieved.

The supposed bond had saved my life. Whatever connected us had allowed me to heal, had given me his magic. I was too overwhelmed to think about it right now.

“I thought… I thought you were dead.” The words came out choked as more tears fell. “When I found you.”

“Shhh.” He stood, moving me around until I was wrapped around him spider-monkey style.

“Bastian, we need⁠—”

“No, Christian.” His head snapped to the side. “Have Phillip handle this shit. I’m taking care of my girl.” Christian’s mouth opened and closed, but Bastian strode off without waiting for him to respond. I burrowed my face in his shoulder as he walked me to a more secluded area back in the racks. He set me on one of the shelves, pushing boxes out of the way.

His hands roamed over me, checking every inch of my skin. I shivered against him, pawing my eyes.

“You’ll be expected to give a statement, sugar. But I want your story before you give it to them, hmm?”

I nodded, then told him exactly what had happened. How I’d found him. The slip of paper. I reached into my pocket and fished it out. He took it and simply tossed it away, lifting my hand and kissing my palm.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“What?” My voice was still thick with tears.

“Did you mean what you said earlier, when I was fighting Marsh’s compulsion.” I hesitated. “Say it, Elle. I need to hear it again.”

“I love you, Bastian. It’s only been two weeks and yet, I’ve fallen deeply in love with you.”

He leaned forward, his mouth molding to mine. I groaned, kissing him back, sweeping my tongue along his.

Eventually, I pulled away. “I didn’t know if you’d be able to hear me. Didn’t know if it would work.”

“That fucking—” He stopped himself and took a deep breath. “He tried to make me kill you.”

I felt the tremor that went through him, felt him shudder against me.

“You didn’t,” I whispered. “You fought it. I saw you fighting it.”