WhenIwake,thestorm is still raging somewhere beyond the cabin walls, but here everything feels hushed and safe. My cheek rests on Thane's chest, his heartbeat a slow, steady drum beneath my ear. His arm wraps around me, heavy and sure, the best kind of anchor.
For the first time in forever, I'm not cold. Not lonely. Not searching for the next thing to fill the silence.
I'm where I belong.
I shift slightly, and the movement makes me aware of new sensations—a pleasant ache in muscles I forgot I had, the scratch of fur against bare skin, the way my body fits against his. The bond hums between us, a golden warmth that pulses in time with our heartbeats.
Thane's hand splays across my back, even in sleep keeping me close. I tilt my head to study his face. Asleep, he looks younger somehow. The hard lines around his mouth have softened. Histusks catch the morning light filtering through the shutters, and I have the absurd urge to trace them with my fingertips.
So I do.
His eyes open immediately, those startling golden eyes that saw through me from the first moment. For a heartbeat we just look at each other, and I feel the bond stretch and settle, like it's checking that we're both still here, still real.
He stirs, murmuring my name like it belongs to him now. "You're awake."
I tilt my head up. "Barely."
A smile ghosts across his mouth, softer than I expected. His hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. "How do you feel?"
The question is loaded with meaning. He's not just asking about soreness or sleep. He's asking about the bond, about what we did, about whether I regret any of it in the cold light of morning.
"Different," I say honestly. "Butgooddifferent. Like I can feel you... here." I press my hand over my heart. "It's warm. Steady."
"That's the bond settling." His voice is rough with sleep and something else. Relief, maybe. "It'll get stronger over the next few days."
"Does it ever fade?"
"Never." He says it simply, certainly. "Once the bond forms, it's permanent. You'll always feel me, and I'll always feel you."
I should be terrified by that. The permanence of it, the way it binds us together without any chance of escape. Instead, I feel anchored. Safe.
"I didn't hurt you?" The question comes out gentle, careful. His eyes search my face for any sign of pain or discomfort.
"No," I whisper. "You couldn't."
He makes a sound that's half-laugh, half-growl. "I could. Easily. You're so small, Lila. So soft." His hand drifts throughmy hair, untangling strands with surprising gentleness. "I kept thinking I'd break you."
"But you didn't."
"Because I'd rather break myself first."
The words settle into my chest, warm and true. I lean up and kiss him, morning breath and all. He responds immediately, rolling us so I'm half-pinned beneath him, and the kiss deepens into something that makes the bond flare bright between us.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"We should eat," he says, though he makes no move to get up.
"Probably."
"You need to keep your strength up."
"For what?"
His smile is wicked. "For later."
Heat floods my cheeks even as I laugh. He kisses my nose, then reluctantly pulls away, reaching for his discarded clothes. I watch him dress, unashamed of my appreciation for the play of muscle under green skin, the way his body moves with predatory grace.
He catches me looking and raises an eyebrow. "See something you like?"
