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In death, he would have more than he had ever had in life.
In death, he would have his mate.
There was no pain in his surrender. Numb to his emotions and exhausted from the screaming in his head, Sorin tossed the bedsheet away and tucked himself against Bertram’s side, burrowing beneath his arm so he could pretend Bertram was holding him one final time. Bertram’s clothing was wet and sticky with blood, and the floor was no better, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. If these were to be their last moments together, Sorin wouldn’t squander them. Nothing could keep him away.
He clung to Bertram, closed his eyes, and rested his head on Bertram’s chest to listen to his final heartbeats. How many times had he done the same without realizing how precious a thing it was? All those lazy mornings cuddled in bed together. Nights out in the fields by the castle, laughing, talking, watching the stars…
How happy those moments had been.
Sorin wished he would have committed more of them to memory. He wished he could have had more of them before his magic had driven him away. If he had known then what he knew now, he would have spent his time differently… but there had been no telling what their future would hold, had there? Life was not that kind. It took as much as it gave, and sometimes even more than that, and all without warning.
And now, it was taking the last of what Sorin had left.
It was taking his dragon.
A tear slid down Sorin’s cheek, landing on Bertram’s chest. He had not led a happy life, but he clung to the happy memories he did have, focusing on them instead of the agony in his heart and in his head. They were the moments that had made hundreds of years of loneliness worthwhile, and though they were simple, they meant everything to him.
Bertram’s easygoing smile.
The humor in his voice.
The weight of his body and the way it made Sorin feel safe.
Quiet moments spent with the boys when they had still been young.
The happiness of those moments warmed Sorin, and he took that feeling and shared it through their ever-weakening bond. It felt like such a foolish thing to do, but maybe—just maybe—if Bertram was still cognizant, he’d feel Sorin’s emotions like sunshine on his soul and realize that Sorin was there with him.
And that he wouldn’t be dying alone.
“I’m sorry,” Sorin mouthed against Bertram’s chest, holding him tight. “I’m sorry, and I love you. I’m here. You don’t have to be afraid.”
More memories followed.
The day the clutch had hatched. Sunsets viewed through the glass window in Bertram’s chambers. Stolen moments around the world when love had bested terror. Pearls pinned in their nursemaids’ hair. Bertram shirtless and in bed, nesting with their eggs.
And love.
So much love.
A love that had bested time and space, that had survived the most inhospitable conditions.
A love he would die to keep.
All of those emotions coalesced inside of him, and while he had been intending to use them to soothe Bertram, they ended up soothing him, too. Gradually, the screaming in his head lost its edge and quieted down, and with it contained, Sorin was able to focus on himself and the situation at hand—how warm Bertram felt beneath him, and how tired he was.
Boneless, he lay where he was and simply breathed, waiting for the moment he would hear Bertram’s last heartbeat.
A minute passed.
Then another.
The bond stopped flickering.
A golden glow filled it now, but it was different from the one Sorin was making. Curious, he traced it back to its point of origin and realized it was not of his own creation.
It was from Bertram, and it was the feeling of him loving Sorin back.
“Bertram?” Sorin croaked. Cautiously, he pushed more emotion into the bond until suddenly, Bertram’s chest heaved as he sucked in an urgent, gasping breath.
