Chapter 207: The Lake 3

BONNIE

He had stopped treading water.

The laughter vanished from his face so abruptly that I barely had time to register the change. His expression went slack, the color draining from his skin, and his eyes fixed on something beneath him. For one terrible moment, he looked genuinely terrified. His mouth opened, but whatever sound he tried to make never reached me.

Then something dragged him under.

It happened too quickly for me to understand what I was seeing. One moment, his head was above the surface, his eyes wide with horror. The next, the water closed over him, leaving behind a long, violent ripple and a scatter of bubbles. I caught a glimpse of his hand breaking the surface before it disappeared, too, and then there was nothing but the widening circles of disturbed water, glittering beneath the afternoon sun.

"No."

The word barely left my mouth.

I couldn’t remember deciding to move. I didn’t remember pulling off my shoes or fumbling with the clasp at my throat until the pearls came loose and scattered across the rocks. There was no time to think about the drop, the cold, or whether I could even reach him. I ran.

The ground vanished beneath my feet, the wind rushed past my ears, and then the lake struck me with enough force to drive the breath from my lungs.

It was cold.

Goddess, it was cold.

The shock seized my entire body. My muscles locked, my lungs convulsed, and the green fabric of my dress tangled around my legs as I fought to orient myself. I kicked hard, forcing myself down beneath the surface, my hands sweeping through the water as I searched for him.

The basin was deeper than it had looked from above. Sunlight filtered through in long, wavering shafts of gold, thinning as I descended into green shadow. Below me, the rocks disappeared into darkness, their crevices threaded with slow-moving weeds. A silver fish darted past my cheek, flashing once before vanishing between the stones.

There was no sign of Lysander.

I turned, searching in every direction, but the water stretched around me, vast and disorienting. My lungs had already begun to burn. I couldn’t tell how far I’d swum or which direction would take me back to the surface, and the wet skirts of my dress dragged at my legs every time I kicked.

Lysander.

I reached for the bond, desperate for something to follow, some flicker of his presence that would tell me where he was. But panic had swallowed everything else. The connection that usually hummed beneath my ribs felt distant and indistinct, buried beneath the cold and the pounding of my heart.

No. No, no, no.

I searched again, forcing my eyes open against the sting, my hands reaching into the darkness.

He’s gone.

The thought struck with such vicious certainty that I nearly forgot to kick.

He’s gone, he’s gone, and you let him—

I was just about to scream for help from the sentinels who were so fucking incompetent when an arm locked around my waist.

Terror ripped through me. I screamed, releasing a rush of bubbles, and thrashed wildly, my elbow striking something solid. A hand tightened around me before I could twist away, and then a familiar chest pressed against my back.

Warmth.

Strength.

The unmistakable feel of him.

A muffled laugh brushed my ear.

For one bewildered second, I couldn’t make sense of it. Then Lysander pulled me against him and kicked us both towards the surface.

We broke through together in a burst of silver spray.

I dragged in a breath so sharply that it turned into a cough. Water streamed down my face, and I sputtered as I struggled to fill my lungs, my fingers clutching desperately at Lysander’s soaked shirt. Sunlight struck my eyes, bright and merciless after the darkness beneath the water.

His arm remained locked around my ribs, keeping me above the surface while he treaded water with infuriating ease.

I turned my head towards him, still coughing, still shaking, and found him grinning.

Not a small smile. Not even the crooked, apologetic expression of a man who knew he’d made a mistake.

He was grinning so broadly that it transformed his entire face, as though he’d just pulled off the most delightful trick in the world.

And I had never wanted to murder anyone more in my life.

I twisted in his arms until I could look him squarely in the face.

He was fine. Entirely unharmed, not even breathing hard, and still laughing as though nearly giving me a heart attack had been the highlight of his afternoon.

"You," I managed, my voice rough from coughing.

"Me."

"You were..." I shoved at his chest, forgetting for one disastrous second that we were still in the water. I slipped beneath the surface with a startled gasp, only for him to catch me around the waist and pull me back up. "You were dragged under! I saw it! Something took you!"

"That was my own foot," he confessed. "That I kicked up rather dramatically."

I stared at him, water dripping from my lashes. "Your face!"

"I am an excellent actor."

"I thought you were dead!" My voice cracked, and the sound of it only made me angrier. "I thought something had you, and I jumped into a freezing lake in my nice dress, you absolute, insufferable—"

"I know." His laughter softened, though there was still no real remorse in his expression. His eyes, however, had lost their teasing edge. "I know, Bonnie."

"And you are still smiling!"

"I can’t help it."

I slapped his shoulder.

The wet crack of my palm against his skin was deeply satisfying, so I did it again. And again. He took every blow without protest, his arms remaining firmly around me to keep me afloat. By the fourth, my strength had begun to fade, my hands were trembling from the cold, and my anger had tangled itself so tightly with the lingering terror that I could hardly separate one from the other.

Eventually, I stopped hitting him and pressed my fist against his chest instead, breathing hard.

"The mate bond," I said accusingly. "It should have told me you were lying."

"It should have." The corner of his mouth lifted. "It would have, if you’d been paying attention to it. But I bet you were too busy panicking to notice anything else."

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it again.

Because he was right.

The bond had been there the entire time, a steady thread of warmth beneath my ribs, carrying none of the terror he was supposed to have been feeling. No pain, no distress, or even a hint of the desperate struggle I’d imagined. If I’d been calm enough to listen, I would have felt his amusement long before he surfaced.

Instead, I’d thrown myself off a twelve-foot bluff without stopping to consider it.

For him.

The realization landed with an uncomfortable weight, bringing a fresh wave of heat to my face. It crept up my neck and spread across my cheeks until I was certain even the tips of my ears had turned red.

That was something I would have to examine later, preferably alone, with a stiff drink and absolutely no one around to remind me of it.

Lysander’s gaze dropped to my face.

His smile changed, the mischief in it giving way to something quieter and far more dangerous to my composure.

"There," he murmured.

I narrowed my eyes. "There what?"

"That." His thumb brushed a wet strand of hair away from my cheek. "You do that whenever you realize you’ve given yourself away."

"Do not."

"I like it."

"I am so angry with you."

"You are," he agreed, tightening his arm around my ribs to keep me close. "You are also red to the tips of your ears, soaked through, and furious with me. And you jumped into a freezing lake without stopping to think about what might happen to you."

His teasing softened, and when he spoke again, his voice had lost its usual flippancy.

"I don’t think anyone has ever been that afraid of losing me before."

"I thought you were dying."

"I know."

"I would have..." My throat tightened around the words. I couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t quite bring myself to say what I knew we both understood.

Lysander’s gaze held mine. "I know, Bonnie."

The water rocked gently around us, carrying us in small circles while the breeze stirred the reeds along the shore. Sunlight glinted across the lake, and a dragonfly hovered near his shoulder, its delicate wings catching the light in brief flashes of color. Beneath the surface, his legs brushed mine, and I could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat where our bodies touched.

The bond had settled into something so tender it almost hurt. There was no teasing in it now, only the warmth of his affection and a quiet wonder that seemed to mirror the ache gathering in my chest.

I turned fully towards him, my legs tangling with his beneath the water. My hands found the collar of his soaked shirt, curling into the fabric, while his settled on my waist. He held me lightly, giving me every opportunity to pull away.

I didn’t.

"I hate you," I whispered.

"No, you don’t."

"A little."

"Not even a little."

I should have argued. I should have reminded him that I was still furious, that my dress was ruined, that I had nearly drowned myself because he’d decided to turn a swim into an elaborate performance.

Instead, I kissed him.

I’m not sure which of us moved first. I only remember the brief brush of his nose against mine, the way his breath caught, and then his mouth was on mine, cold from the lake and tasting faintly of fresh water. His hand slid to the nape of my neck, his fingers threading through my wet hair, while mine tightened around his shirt as though I needed something solid to hold on to.

The kiss deepened, and the world seemed to recede around us.

For once, my mind offered me no horrors to anticipate, no memories to pick apart, no questions about what tomorrow might bring. I didn’t feel the familiar dread that usually followed me.

There was only the warmth of Lysander’s hand against my neck, the sunlight resting on my closed eyelids, and the soft sound of his laughter fading into the kiss. The bond hummed between us, bright and certain, and for once, I let myself believe in what it was telling me.

I was exactly where I wanted to be.

When we finally drew apart, we were both breathing harder than before. Lysander rested his forehead against mine, his eyes searching my face as though he were trying to commit every detail to memory. My heart was pounding so fiercely that I could feel it in my throat.

I swallowed, trying to recover some measure of dignity.

"That," I managed, "does not make up for what you did."

"I know."

"I am still going to push you into the lake again."

His smile returned, softer this time, and his thumb brushed along my cheek.

"I would expect nothing less."

I tipped my head back and let the sunlight pour over my face. Behind us, on the bluff, one of the sentinels coughed very loudly and pretended to be looking at a bird.