Is that what my constant awareness of her means? This urge to protect her, to keep her close, to make her smile? This terrible fear that I’ll destroy her or drive her away by proving myself unworthy of whatever goodness she believes I possess?
I reach for her, but she stops me by holding up her palm. “Wait. I have a present for you.”
Before I can react, she bends down—still clutching the dress to her chest with one hand—and fishes beneath the bed with the other.
Pixie hisses from her hiding spot, clearly unimpressed with the intrusion.
“Sorry, Pix.” After a little more digging, Aurora finally produces a small box wrapped in plain brown paper but festooned with a ridiculous array of curly, bouncy rainbow ribbons that clash with the austere packaging. “Your wedding gift.”
A painful knot settles behind my ribs. When was the last time anyone gave me something other than a weapon or a bribe or payment for services rendered?
My gut clenches. Why the hell didn’t anyone explain to me that wedding presents are a thing? I have nothing for Aurora.
“You didn’t have to?—”
“I know. That’s why I did it. Go on. Open it.”
I accept her offering with the care I’d use to handle a bomb. I spend a minute untying the silky ribbons and another unwrapping the paper without tearing it. The unlabeled box underneath is plain cardboard.
I lift the lid.
Inside, a bracelet nestles on a bed of white tissue paper. An intricate pattern covers the leather strap, a shield crafted fromtiny pieces of broken dinnerware or tiles. Together, the pieces form a fierce, proud lion, comprised of blues and golds and whites.
An odd sensation suffuses my chest.
She made this. For me.
I lift the bracelet from the box. The craftsmanship is exquisite, each piece placed with precision, the leather soft and supple.
My throat tightens, and my eyes burn. Damn sinuses, picking the worst time to act up.
“Do you like it?” Her uncertainty causes the knot in my chest to grow.
I run my thumb over the mosaic shield, feeling the smooth surfaces of the once broken fragment, now whole and beautiful.
And just for me.
Awe and humility splash over me like a tide, drowning my usual defenses.
I could buy a hundred bracelets. A thousand. But this? This single item created by her hands is worth more than all of them combined.
“It’s perfect. But I don’t…” The words catch, and I pause to inhale a steadying breath. “I didn’t get you anything.”
A soft, silvery laugh bursts from her lips. “Are you kidding? You got me a home. And a husband.” She gestures around the room, at the loft beyond, at me. “Things were looking pretty bleak, you know. Broke waitress…always working…no adventure whatsoever. Plus, you gave me the ability to create your gift in the first place. So honestly, it’s probably for the best that you kidnapped me.”
I close the distance in two strides, the bracelet still cradled in one hand while I wrap the other around her waist. The dress slips and catches between our bodies. Though her breath hitches, neither of us moves to grab the gown.
I growl into her ear. “You’re joking about me kidnapping you. On our wedding night.”
I feel her smile against my neck. “Well, when you put it that way, it does sound pretty weird.” I pull back to study her and find light dancing in her eyes and a delicious flush pinkening her cheeks.
All day, I watched her retreat further into herself. Become smaller, dimmer.
Now she’s present and vibrant. The Aurora I’ve sorely missed.
She chews her bottom lip. “You really don’t hate me?”
“Are you serious? I’ve never hated you. It’s only that I don’t know how to do this.” Once the dam breaks, the words flood out. “I don’t know how to be a husband or a partner or whatever the fuck normal people are to each other. I only know how to be what I am. And what I am is…dangerous and broken. Not the kind of man who deserves someone like you.”
