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“Aye,” Bertram said on the exhale, then let out a thin, wry laugh that ended in a cough. “It was a valiant attempt, but you’ll have to try harder than that to kill me, love. Better luck next time.”
He was alive.
He was alive.
Sorin made a shrill noise that was half excited cry, half sob and seized Bertram in a crushing hug. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen. Please, believe me.”
“I know,” Bertram replied. He turned his head and buried his face in Sorin’s hair. “I heard the truth in the love you pushed through the bond. I know you would never hurt me. It wasn’t your fault.”
It wasn’t, and Sorin knew it, but the kindness in Bertram’s voice broke what little composure he’d managed to find. He managed to choke back a single sob before the floodgates opened and he dissolved into ugly tears, clinging to Bertram desperately as Bertram whispered sweet reassurances into his hair.
“All is well,” his sweet dragon promised. “I am here now, and I am alive. We both are. It isn’t over yet. There is still hope for us, love. I have you now, and I won’t let you go again. Please, don’t cry.”
“How can you say that?” Sorin asked through his tears. “I almost killed you, and if you stay, it will only be a matter of time before it happens again. There is no hope for us. There never has been.”
“Are you certain of that?”
It was such an absurd question that Sorin pulled away to look down at Bertram. He was a bloody mess and deathly pale, but there was a glimmer of excitement in his eyes.
“You know something,” he accused.
“I do.” Bertram, wincing, followed Sorin into an upright position. “There is a great deal I’ve learned in the time we’ve been apart, love, and I intend to tell you all of it… but first, will you help me into the shower? I’m afraid I’ve made a mess of myself, but I am far too light-headed to clean myself up on my own.”
16
Bertram
It took some effort to climb to his feet, but eventually, Bertram managed. Once upright, Sorin took his arm and brought him to the bathroom, where he helped Bertram out of his clothes before he undressed himself. Nude, he stepped over the edge of the tub and reached a hand out for Bertram. Bertram, dazed and more than a little dizzy from blood loss, saw his hand move, but the gesture did not register. He was too distracted to discern what was happening, his eyes glued to the gorgeous man standing in the tub.
His partner. His lover.
His mate.
He was finally Bertram’s again.
“Bertram?” Sorin hiked an eyebrow. He nodded his chin at his outstretched hand. Bertram blinked back to his senses and took it, allowing Sorin to help him into the tub. He had been afraid that the Sorin of today would be nothing like the one he’d known before the attacks against his brothers, but he saw now that he’d been worried for no reason. Sorin wouldn’t have been treating him so kindly if that were the case—he was still the same man he’d fallen in love with all those years ago.
“You really ought to be taking a bath,” Sorin mumbled as Bertram joined him in the tub. He turned on the water and let it heat before activating the shower. They stood so close, their bodies shared the shower spray. “It’s not safe for you to be standing up right now. You lost a lot of blood.”
“I have regenerative abilities.”
“That take time to work.” Sorin gave him a lingering look, then collected the travel-sized bar of soap left on the corner of the tub and ripped open the packaging. “You’ll be fine eventually, but right now you’re in no condition to act like nothing happened.”
“Needs must. There is much we have to discuss.”
“Sure, but not right now. I am not going to have a serious conversation with you naked in the shower while we’re both drenched in blood. If you’re sure I’m not a danger to you anymore, it can wait until I’ve finished cleaning us up. Got it?”
He really was the same as he’d always been.
As exhausted as he was, Bertram couldn’t help but grin. “I do.”
Satisfied with his answer, Sorin went to work, lathering Bertram up and taking great care in making sure all the blood and other grime was scrubbed away. His touch was a balm, and Bertram melted into it. He had been afraid he might never feel Sorin treat him so kindly again, and the relief of knowing that his mate still loved him despite everything was a great distraction from the general aches and pains of his healing body.
“Turn around,” Sorin ordered, and Bertram did so without question. A click of a plastic cap and some seconds later, Sorin’s hands were in his hair. He massaged Bertram’s scalp, working a dollop of shampoo into a thick lather as Bertram’s knees turned to jelly, then rinsed the product out and turned his attention onto himself, giving himself a perfunctory wash. When at last the water ran clear and they were both pink-skinned and smelling of soap, Sorin helped Bertram out of the water and into a bathrobe.
Bertram was already feeling much better and was capable of dressing himself, but he elected not to reveal it, letting Sorin tug the robe into place. Was it wrong? Maybe. But after such a long time apart, it did his heart good to see his mate fuss over him.
And it did his heart even better yet when, after Sorin had finished, he turned and reached for a robe of his own, treating Bertram to a fantastic view of his ass.
