Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

Sensing his distress, I quickly pull on my robe and slippers.

Knowing he’s not in the house, it’s confirmed a minute later when I look toward the front door to see it open, the screen door unlocked and slightly ajar behind it. Stalking through it in search of him, I’m thankful my path is lit by the moon, which blazes three-quarters full, as I begin my search through endless rows of apple trees. Rapidly coloring leaves flutter on all sides of me, a few breaking loose and flying past me on my path as I inhale the crisp air. After several minutes of a fruitless search, it’s my worry for him that carries me through the threatening fatigue.

I’m only able to release a long, relieved breath when I finally spot him. That relief is short-lived at the sight of him standing utterly still between a line of trees, his posture rigid, hands clenched at his sides.

“Go back inside, Delphine,” he clips when I’m ten feet away, his tone lacking life while at the same time intentionally casual and lifelike. So much so, if I didn’t know the animation that typically resides inside it, I would never know the difference. Very aware of the distortion of the man standing feet away from me but not of what haunts him, I can visibly see the sheen of sweat still covering his naked upper half despite the cold. Though the air around him is alarming and ominous, his beauty is astonishing by comparison. It’s my heart that refuses to take heed to his warning, but the second I lift my foot to inch forward, he speaks again. “Don’t, Delphine.” This order comes just as clipped and void of animation. “Go back to bed. I’ll be back in a little while.”

Refusing to move but heeding his words, I idle for long minutes as he stands so still—so utterly and terrifyingly still—my heart breaks at the sight of it.

“Tyler,” I finally say, “turn to me.”

“Damn it, Delphine, go back to the house!” he snaps, this voice very much belonging to the man I know. He’s coming into himself because I’m refusing his order, but I can’t allow whatever he’s reliving to harm him any longer tonight.

“Please, Soldier. Please turn to me,” I urge. It takes another minute until his shoulders relax a fraction, and he rolls his neck slightly. It’s then I see his upper body visibly expanding and collapsing as he takes precisely measured breaths. A frigid breeze kicks up when he finally turns, and the sight of solid metal eyes greets me. The sight is jarring, but one I’ve seen before—the first time I found him in the living room. The second sighting was the night he stormed into my house, furious at the thought I had been with another man before he breathed through it and blinked his metal gaze away. “Where are you, Soldier?”

“Standing ten feet in front of you,” he retorts sarcastically. “Couldn’t you do what I asked?”

“Non, not if it pains you this much.” I finally take a step forward. “Are you afraid you’ll hurt me in your state?”

“No,” he bites in offense, “and it’s questions like the one you just asked me that have me wanting you to keep your fucking distance.” Exhaling, he closes his eyes once more and runs a hand through his soaked hair, his irritation with me evident. “I’m completely aware of everything in any fucking state I’m in, Delphine.”

“Then you are ashamed?” I prod.

“Partly, but mostly, right now, it should be apparent I’m annoyed,” he bites out. “I asked you to leave me be. Couldn’t you do that one thing for me?”

“I’m sorry, Soldier,” I whisper. “I will do as you ask.”

As he lifts his head skyward, I notice his expression is turning pained because of his need to protect me from himself and what haunts him. As I take one last lingering look at him, a strong breeze cloaks us both, and my involuntary shiver doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Come on,” he sighs, “it’s cold.” He walks over to me, palming my back to guide me forward. Feeling his restlessness, I remain mute on our walk back. When we reach the porch, he stops me when I lay a hand on the door, sliding his arm around my waist and pulling me back into him. “I’m sorry, baby”—he exhales a long breath—“but you know why I asked you to leave.”

“Because you don’t want me to witness it.”

“Of course not,” he murmurs, “you’re going through enough.”

“I’m stronger than I have been in two decades,” I declare honestly. “So no, Soldier. I will not accept that. I have not forgotten these past weeks where you have spent all your focus on me, to heal me, that you confessed your own need to heal.” I turn in his arms and gaze up at him. “So now I need to know. Where were you?”

“Not tonight, okay?” he replies with more tenderness in his voice.

“Oui, tonight, and right now. You get to demand my pain, to help me, and have probed to learn my past. Should I not get the same respect, the same privilege?”

He stares back at me, unflinching. “Yes, and you will, just not tonight.”

“Give me something, Soldier.”

He blows out a long breath. “I was allowing myself to try and process some things in an attempt to put them into perspective.”

“And so, what? You think you are capable of what I am not without Regina’s help?”

“I didn’t say that,” he defends, “but maybe I claim that because I’ve been researching this half my life for this very purpose.”

“I’m not judging you.” I palm his chest. “But can I not be just as adamant about your health? About the dangerous places you go?”

“Come on, it’s cold,” he says, ushering me back to bed like I’m a child as he slips in next to me, his eyes losing the rest of their brass glaze as he gently whispers his palm over the top of my head. I grip his hand and toss it away, refusing his coaxing touch as he exhales a groan of frustration.

“Well, I got a three-for-one deal on the French pains in the ass in my life when I befriended Dom, didn’t I?” he coos with the pop of his dimple as I avoid his touch a second time. “Oof, baby,” he admonishes, “I’m so looking forward to our real fights.”

“Careful what you wish for, imbecile, and don’t make me state the obvious,” I finally bite.

“I think I will,” he says with a slight edge.

“I care for you just as much, and I will refuse you to hide what hurts you by numbing with stupid fucking jokes to deter me.”

“I flat out told you I’m trying to heal myself, Delphine. I’m not hiding that.”

“And this is how you need me, Soldier? To witness you suffer and remain silent? Non.”

“For now, yes,” he states adamantly, “but only because I’m aware of the catalog of ways to help process PTSD, including grounding techniques, cognitive interventions, exposure techniques, and psychotherapy—otherwise known as talk therapy. And since I’m hell-bent on trying to stay off meds unless it worsens, I’m going through what I can on my own by using what I know. So, without sounding like more of an asshole than I’m acting like right now, I’m only reconfirming what I know any qualified psychotherapist, psychologist, or counselor would tell me. Spending money and time to gain an education I already have would be an utter waste. I feel confident enough on my own because I am fairing and functioning enough for now,” he states before refusing the personal space I’ve forced between us by easily pulling me to lay beneath him. Bending, he takes my lips in a kiss so ravenous that I sink into it, glaring at his victorious smile when he pulls away. “Damn.” One side of his mouth lifts. “you’re sexy when you’re pissed.”

“Tyler—”

“When I’m ready to talk it out, you’ll be the first I start talking to,” he relays in a soft whisper.

“Promise me, Soldier,” I prompt, palming his jaw as his fatigue becomes more present in his eyes.

“I swear it.” He kisses my hand. “This is one of the reasons my parents used to fight, and I refuse to follow suit in that respect. But this was a minor episode. They come and go and always will. If I’m honest, they were becoming less frequent until this utter fucking shit show of a summer, which was therapy-inducing in and of itself. But it’s the job and purpose I chose and will continue to.”

“What happened this summer?”

“Jesus, you’re a pushy little thing tonight.” His eyes shimmer with love as I give him an adamant shrug. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Non. Tell me.”

“Well . . . let’s see.” He shakes his head in slight disbelief before pinning me with an arduous stare. “And this is just to name the most significant.”

I nod.

“I’ve had to help Dom reroute our vendetta strategy thanks to Cecelia’s crash landing. While watching the slow-motion and dangerous descent of Sean and Dom collectively falling for her, I kept and continue to keep vigilant eyes on her to ensure no harm comes her way. This is while carrying out our plan to bring down our competitors—to be the first to get to Roman. In doing that, stumbling upon a nightmare by way of a warehouse inspection with contents so fucking dangerous that lifting them could have brought major heat to the club, with the potential to expose us before taking us all down.” He blows out a loaded breath. “During this time, dealing with Miami’s possible defection, especially after Dom blew his lid after a street race, where we’re almost positive it was a purposeful attempt to take Sean out. This is while we’re in the midst of orchestrating and framing two higher-ups in the military because of what we found in that warehouse, with the help of our birds in higher places . . . Oh, add raiding an apartment full of drug addicts—also Dom initiated—before we left them screaming naked on the highway. Then, tack on investigating one of our local birds, Clint, and weighing the decision to erase him as a liability or get him rehabilitation. And the most recent nightmare, fucking covering Dom’s tracks, yet again, by going on a tri-state crime spree. Finish it off with my daily responsibilities for the club, including passing out blessings and checking in for my mandatory Marine reserve duties, all the while trying to figure out the best way to deal with Tobias’s incoming wrath.”

My eyes are bulging out of my head as he finishes this list.

“So yeah,” he sighs before affectionately brushing my cheek, “it’s been a rough couple of months. And no offense to my brothers—and though I hate the fact that they’re gone—I could use some downtime. Because as much as your nephews like to pride themselves on not being drama queens, those two are neck and neck in earning the crown.”

“Mon Dieu, Tyler!” I rasp out, palming his chest as his grin widens at whatever expression I’m wearing. “How did you . . . manage all that?”

“Well enough to fight another day,” he murmurs, “but the best part, General of my heart,” he whispers with affection, “is that it all comes back to you. And I’ll give you every single detail of how, I promise. But I have to go see one of your drama queens in a few hours, so please let me get what sleep I can.”

“Yes, of course, but”—I shake my head in astonishment—“I will now say you are faring very, very well considering.”

“It’s because of you, Delphine,” he insists as I shake my head in refusal. “Shake your head all you want,” he drawls, “but you’ve been with me the whole time. And when I tell you how I managed the summer from hell, and escaped so many sticky situations in the GRS, you will believe me.”

“I can’t wait to hear this, Soldier,” I trace his tattoo. “I don’t know how I will sleep, but rest, yes please,” I order, reeling.

Ten minutes later, I’m still peering at my soldier in astonishment, and sensing it, a beautiful and knowing grin lifts his full lips as he keeps his eyes closed.

“Soldier, I’m so sorry, and I want you to get rest, but can I ask one thing—”

“Merde,” shit, he exhales through a sleep-filled chuckle before he quiets all questions with his kiss.