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“Our hero will need to be brave and risk his or her life for the greater good.”
Her voice echoes in my mind as I slowly strip off my dirty, bloody clothing, dropping it to the floor in a messy pile. At the time, I thought she meant physically. Now I know that the true challenge wasn’t the minotaur, but the archway.
Stepping into the large shower, I turn it on and move into the spray. It’s freezing to start, startling a gasp out of me, but it quickly warms up. I watch as the water turns a reddish brown as it pours down my body. I don’t move or make an effort to scrub myself. I feel like I’m falling apart. Every part of me was stripped away, and now I have no idea how to put myself back together. All of my mistakes, selfish thoughts, and every lie that has ever passed my lips was thrown at me in that arch. My actions from the werewolf trials were examined, showing me where I caused pain and almost failed.
I accepted all of my flaws for my mates. I’ve always known I was different and have never denied that I’ve made mistakes. It didn’t defeat me back at the archway, and I’m determined that it won’t defeat me now. I’m just raw from everything and overwhelmed now that the danger has passed. Learning all of that about yourself is a test of mental strength, and I can understand why many are destroyed by it.
Whatever magic is embedded into that arch is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. It was almost sentient, as though it had a mind of its own. That theory is only strengthened by the vision I experienced at the end. I get the feeling that the vision I had at the end wasn’t usual, a gift from the archway. It felt… pleased with me for passing its test.
With tears still streaming down my cheeks, I grab a sponge and shower gel and begin to scrub the challenge from my skin. The circular motions seem to help, and as I wash away the dirt and blood, I start to feel a little lighter. I rub it over my skin repeatedly, far past the point where any visible dirt is gone.
I hear the bathroom door open, and from the pull in my chest, I know Atlas is in the room with me. He doesn’t make a sound as he moves into my field of vision, and I see him leaning against the sink, arms crossed over his chest.
Having him close warms something in my chest, but I keep scrubbing, my skin still feeling dirty.I need to be clean. I’ll feel like myself again once I’ve washed today away. The rational part of my mind is telling me this is a trauma response, and at this point, the only thing I’m achieving is making my skin red. However, my brain isn’t in charge right now. My mates need me to be sane and keep us together, so I need to pull myself together and stop acting as though I’m falling apart. The goddess is with me and will help me through this.
I’m not sure how long I’m in the shower for while Atlas watches, but my skin has wrinkled, and the room is full of steam. When my mate steps up to the shower, he opens the door and places a hand on my arm, stopping my frantic movements.
“Laelia, stop. You’re hurting yourself.”
I’m not sure what he sees in my expression, but pain flashes in his eyes.
Hating that he’s hurting, I try to force a smile onto my face, but it’s shaky and unconvincing, even to me. “I need to get clean. It’s helping. I will beat this.”
He stares at me intently for a few minutes, then, to my surprise, he steps into the shower with me. He doesn’t seem to care that he’s still fully clothed and getting soaked from the spray. His body fills the rest of the space in the shower cubicle, but instead of feeling claustrophobic like I thought I would, it helps settle some wild part of me. It also awakens something else. A flicker of desire works its way through the sadness and reminds me of some of the joys in my life.
Placing a hand on my naked waist, he pulls me against him, cupping the side of my face with his free hand. “Yes, you will, mate, because you are the strongest person I’ve ever met in my life.” He believes every single word he’s saying, and there’s not a single inch of doubt in his mind. It makes me wonder what he sees in me that I don’t. Is it the bond tinting his view of me, or can he genuinely see an inner strength in me?
Before I can begin to question it further, he lowers his head, pressing his forehead against mine. My heart aches for a different reason now as I feel his love pouring through our partial bond.
“I know you can survive all of this,” he repeats, his expression shifting to one of longing. “However, you don’t have to do it alone. Let me help. Letushelp.”
Need fills his tone—the need to help me, heal my pain, and strengthen me in my time of weakness.
As our eyes meet, another need rises to the surface, one that I know he had no intention of pushing when he walked into this bathroom, but it’s making itself known nonetheless. It’s a longing that I feel too, that we’ve put on hold for too long waiting for the right time. I’m beginning to see that there’s never going to be a right time. My life is too complicated, and there will always be something that tries to come between us. We have to steal some time to sate this desire we so desperately feel.
My gaze flickers across his face, taking in his expression. “I know what will help.” My words are as quiet as a whisper, and I’m surprised that he can even hear me over the water.
“What?” he asks earnestly. “Anything for you, mate. I will do whatever you need.”
I can see he means it, and that absolute dedication confirms what I’d known for a while. Atlas hated me and despised our bond when we first discovered we were mates, which is why I refused to complete the bond initially. I wanted him to bind his soul to mine out of love rather than obligation or because he felt he had no other option. He’s grown so much since we met, and I’m proud of the male he’s become. I’d be honoured to call him mate.
“Fuck me. Complete the bond with me.”
It’s not the most romantic of proposals, but that’s never been how the relationship between Atlas and me works.
The flare of his own desire and excitement flutters in my chest, as does joy that this might finally be the moment we both become whole. With the bond only half completed, it feels like I’m missing a part of myself, something that Atlas has reiterated. Tonight, we can do something about that and create something from love after the destruction of the day.
His body stills, and his expression becomes serious as he searches my face. I’m not quite sure what he’s looking for, but he’s hesitating for a reason I can’t comprehend. Having him close is washing away my pain and confusion far quicker than the water in the shower managed to, helping me feel more like myself once again.
Every spot he touches tingles and spreads warmth through my body. It’s an addictive feeling, and I need more. Like a demand, the word “more” thrums through my body with each frantic beat of my heart. My hands fist the wet fabric of his shirt, which is now plastered against his chest.
“Laelia, are you sure now is the right time?” A note of strain laces his voice, and I realise why he’s still against me—he’s struggling to hold himself back and fuck me like I’m asking, instead making sure I’m ready.
I want to snort at the irony of his question given my own little mental conversation just moments ago, but I don’t have the words or will to voice it. Instead, I bite down on my lower lips as I run my eyes across his body. Although I’ve seen him naked before, there’s something about him in a wet shirt that’s making heat gather between my thighs.
“Yes, I think now is exactly the right time,” I whisper.
With a pained groan, he tilts his head back and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, obviously having a mental discussion with himself. When he looks back down at me, his desire is clear on his face. It’s more than that though, he wants this more than just to fuck me, but to bemine, body and soul.
