Chapter 92 Chapter Ninety-Two

Chapter 92 Chapter Ninety-Two
Isla stared up at her mate, shocked he would broach the topic so suddenly, as if it were their only option. She shook her head. “My mother said I wasn’t ready, that the magic was too much for me to take on.”

Sylvan chuckled. He squatted down in front of her. “She also said if you didn’t figure out how to keep the water from coming in, that your fae would activate and I would die.” He gestured down at himself. “Not dead.”

Isla lowered her chin and raised her brow. “You fell from the ceiling. You had no heartbeat.”

He shrugged. “Still didn’t die though. Your fae didn’t actively try to kill me.” He sighed and sat back on his butt. He slid his palms over his thighs and let his hands fall limply over his drawn-up knees. “Do you know how I became the Mate Killer?”

Isla guffawed. “Of course I do. I’m one of the few people on this planet intimately connected with your fun nickname.”

Sylvan smirked in a pained way. She felt his guilt wash over him briefly before he restrained the emotion in the back of his mind where his wolf could tend to it. “Solelei was the first war I fought without my father. It was the first war I carried solely on my shoulders. I fought on the frontlines with my men, choosing not to shift so I could maintain absolute control. Solelei wasn’t like Tridea. Yes, the war with Tridea was long, but Solelei was devastating. Their forces were one of the few that ever rivaled our own. They were vicious, unyielding. We lost more men than could be accurately accounted for.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes turning distant as if he were reliving the carnage, as if his boots were planted on the mound of bodies of men he had been responsible for that never returned to their families. He shook his head and took a deep breath.

“Then Cole met his mate, and she rejected him. As he lay there on the ground, ripping the fabric of his shirt open to reveal the physical scars of someone discarding his bond, I figured it out.” His silver eyes connected with hers. “A way to end the war, the bloodbath, with a single sacrifice." He dropped his head in shame. “When I arrived at the Luna’s hideout, though, I couldn’t do it. Not with my bare hands. I couldn’t take the life of an innocent like that. So… I let over control. I released my wolf which I knew harbored years’ worth of pent-up frustration to do the job. I expected carnage, devastation. But when I came to… A single slash across her throat made by a solitary claw. Quick. Clean. Merciful.”

“What does this have to do with…”

“Your mother said it herself: our time is running low. Any day now the council will call on us, and we will be faced with a danger that far outweighs the water that threatens to drown us with each high tide. She wants you to defend against the greatest force in the world without obtaining the greatest force in the world? No…” Sylvan shook his head. “That water that nearly killed us? You kept it at bay for hours, Isla.” He reached a hand out and ran a crooked finger across her jaw. “In Solelei, I thought I had to subdue my wolf in order to succeed, to hold the power. It turned out that only by accepting my wolf, if only briefly,” he amended. “I could actually wield all the control.”

“Yet, you subdued your wolf. You didn’t fully accept it until recently,” Isla argued.

“And look where that left me,” he agreed. “I didn’t learn the first time. You don’t have the luxury of relearning the same lesson over and over, Isla. You need to empower yourself. Now. Before it’s too late. Before we drown again. Before the world drowns with us.”

Isla sighed and lay back on the rock. “We make vows to each other,” Isla began. “In water… That part is apparently important.”

“That’s of no surprise,” Sylvan chuckled.

“We make vows and seal them with our blood. And… I have to share my true name with you.”

Sylvan appeared above her. He held his weight over her on his palms. “Your true name? We must discuss how you’ve managed to keep these secrets from me, Isla of Tridea.”

Water dripped from his hair to her cheeks. She shrugged. “Perhaps once this is done, there will be no mystery left between us.” She paused. “This won’t be like a wolf bond, Sylvan, based on instinct. Fae bonding is… It’s trust,” she said, meeting his eyes.

“And do you, Isla?” he asked softly. “Do you trust me?”

Isla thought of the first moment they met. How then their positions had been reversed: she was atop him with a dagger at his heart while now he hovered above her with a promise to preserve hers.

“Yes,” she finally whispered.

“Enough to allow me to see every side of you? To honor you and protect you?” he asked, shifting his weight to one palm so he could trace her lip with his thumb. “To forgive all the wrong I’ve done to you and move forward… together?” Isla nodded as a tear fell into her hair. “Then let me vow myself to you, Isla of Tridea, so you can become the woman you were always meant to become and I can spend my days worshiping you as a goddess amongst mortals.”

Sylvan sat back on his haunches and held his hand down to her. Isla gulped; butterflies sprang forward in her stomach as she took his hand and he helped her to her feet. He glanced sideways, and she followed his eyeline toward the tidepool. He raised a brow in question, and she nodded that it would suffice. Keeping hold of her hand, he guided her toward it, only letting go so he could drop into the tidepool before her. Isla sat down at the edge and stared at her mate for a moment as he waited, trusting her to decide when she was ready, allowing her to make a decision as he had made all the rest for them up until this point.

Isla slid into the water, and a soft smile lifted Sylvan’s lips as he reached out for her. He pulled her in, and she let him spin her in a slow circle. He tipped her chin up and kissed her softly. Isla wrapped her legs around his waist. He pulled away and buried his head in her neck, inhaling the mark he’d left there and exhaling with a sigh of satisfaction at the scent residing there, which proclaimed her to be his.

“Tell me what to do,” Sylvan whispered against her skin before taking her lips with his again.

“Isadora,” Isla whispered as his lips left hers to trail down her throat. Sylvan pulled back so his silver eyes could meet the shallow ocean blue of hers. “My true name, Sylvan, is Isadora.”

Sylvan smiled and claimed her lips again, this time in a more passionate embrace that communicated his devotion and gratitude. “Isadora, Princess to the Tideborn,” he whispered, his voice more gravelly than before. “Tell me how to bind myself to you. End this torture for me.”

“There are no magic words, Sylvan,” she explained. His eyes were heavy with desire, not just for her body, but her soul. “You must only mean what you say.”

Sylvan took his bottom lip between his teeth as he pushed her back to the edge of the tidepool. He situated his knee between her skirt to anchor her and took her palm in his hands. A single claw extended from his right pointer finger. The sharpened tip hovered above her palm for a moment as he stared down at it.

“I vow myself to you, Isadora of the Tideborn,” Sylvan finally announced, his voice low but resolute, fulfilling in a way that made her eyelids flutter. His claw cut into her palm, but there was no pain. “I vow to stand by you, to hold your counsel and judgment in the highest regard. I vow to protect you, while also understanding your own power cannot be surpassed by my own or anyone else’s.” Sylvan held out his palm, and Isla used her nail to cut into it. “I vow to be yours: body and soul, mind and matter, heart and flesh.” He clasped his palm with hers, and they simultaneously gasped as his words wove through their physical connection. “I vow to be one with you in every way possible from this moment on; even after death our souls will never part.”

“Sylvan, I…” Isla swallowed hard as he kissed her forehead. They held their clasped hands between them in a grip that would not break until their vows were spoken.

“It’s your turn, Isadora,” Sylvan whispered. “If you chose it.”

“I vow myself to you, Sylvan of Eredhal,” Isla whispered into his neck without hesitation. “To be your equal, to be your mate, to be with you for the rest of our days. I vow to accept your past, and the things you harbor in the darkest parts of your soul. I vow to stand by you in this coming storm and all others that come after. To shield you from the rain long enough to allow your sword to find its mark. I vow to be your mate… the other half of your soul.”

As their words wove through the binding of their mingling blood, Isla could feel the connection burning its way through her body. Sylvan hissed in pain a moment before she felt the same burning sensation race over her wrist and a third of the way up her forearm. They did not release their hold on each other, but both pulled back enough to see the branding of their skin. The tattoos that were showcased on Isla when she was honing her magic transferred across Sylvan’s skin. The pattern was only a few inches from his wrist up his forearm rather than his entire body, but the pattern was identical to her own, a marking. He glanced up and smiled at the claim she’d staked on him.

Isla gasped as the burning sensation ricocheted back through him into her own body. Her head flung back as the tattoos on her skin glowed brighter than ever before. Power surged through her as though it had been stored there since birth and was only now able to break free. It engulfed her with its ferocity. Water from the tidepool shot straight upward. Sylvan’s hold on her tightened, keeping her pinned to the wall as the water cascaded back down around them in the form of smaller droplets. By the time she was able to open her eyes, her breathing was heavy, and Sylvan watched her with a gaze glimmering with pride.

“My powerful mate,” Sylvan whispered. “There’s only one thing left to do: solidify our connection.”

Isla furrowed her brow in confusion. “I don’t know what…” Sylvan started to bunch up her skirt before she realized what he meant. Isla laughed. “I don’t think this bond needs to be consummated.”

He pulled her flush against his naked body and the hardened length that pulsed impatiently against her hip, causing her to lose her train of thought. “I strongly disagree, Isadora.”