Page 294 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

His hand snapped out. I didn’t move in time before his fingers gripped my chin, angling my face toward his like he had a right.

“What do I have to do to convince you I mean what I say?” His breath skimmed my skin as he leaned in, voice lower now, urgent. “I choose my words intentionally. My loyalty is not given lightly, Freya.”

“I’ve done nothing to earn it.” I was proud my retort didn’t tremble, though my thumb drifted back to the hilt of my blade. He might’ve had his father’s bone structure and easy charm—but it was Reagan who’d painted his colors. And I wasn’t about to forget that when it all went to shit.

“Not yet,” he admitted, “but the universe brought you to me. I’ve read too much to believe that’s coincidental. Mates appear when they’re most needed—anchors dropped into chaos. Maybe I’m yours. Maybe you’re mine.”

His touch gentled, sliding from my jaw to the back of my neck, and I hated the part of me that didn’t immediately recoil. That let him hold me there. That breathed a little deeper at his nearness.

I didn’t want to see the honesty in his eyes. Didn’t want to believe in the silent confession threaded through every glance he gave me.

I didn’t want to care.

But that’s what the Bond did, wasn’t it? Twisted something primal until it felt like fate. “What do you need,” he asked softly, “to realize we were given a gift?”

“A gift?” I scoffed breathlessly, refusing to acknowledge the way my pulse hammered, heat rushing through me at a possessive touch that should’ve been repulsive. This man had no right to me. No right to touch me or claim me or force me to listen. Yet, I stood there enamored, my lips parting as I stared up at him. A gift. My soul was perfectly cut to click into place with my murderer’s son like a macabre jigsaw puzzle. What part of that was a fucking gift? “A cruel joke, at best.”

“Why did you come back?”

“I was following orders.”

He laughed—sharp and humorless. “Bullshit. If you were just here for Reyna, you’d have locked that alliance in a day. Instead, you stayed. So I’ll ask again—why are you finishing the Crucible?”

“To right a wrong,” I said quietly, the truth slipping out despite myself.

“Then let me help you.”

He stepped in closer, ditching his cigarette as he cupped my face with both hands. His voice was calm. Final. Like he’d already made the choice for us both.

“You can’t.”

“Then tell me what happened so I can find someone who can.”

My hands met his wrists—meant to push him away. But I wasn’t sure if I was holding him back…or pulling him closer.

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

I swallowed and tilted my head. “How’s that research going, by the way? Find your traitor yet?”

He didn’t flinch. “Don’t deflect.”

“And don’t accuse me of murdering two of our souls, and then fail to find answers when I ask for them.”

“I cannot provide answers I do not have,” he shot back, deliberately using my own words against me. The twitch in his lips told me he knew it. “But the moment I smoke out the rat, you’ll know. There is nothing more important than Paladin’s honor.”

“Of that, I’m painfully aware.”

“So let me help you reclaim yours.”

“You can’t⁠—”

“Trust you? You’ve said that.”

“But here you are.” My voice dropped, my thumb absently brushing the edge of his sleeve. His scent was all cedar, ash, and leather. The same smell soaked the jacket I hadn’t returned. My head tipped just slightly, my chin lifting toward his like my body was making decisions I hadn’t cleared.

“You saved me,” he said, “when I didn’t deserve your mercy.”