“Of course.”
She rewards me with a smile that could power the sanctuary for a week. “You’re so good to me.”
The words do something to me every time she says them. Good to her. Like it’s a choice, like I could be anything else. Like I wasn’t built specifically for this—to shield her from harm, to anticipate her needs, to be the wall between her and everything that wants to hurt her.
I press a kiss to her forehead, breathing in vanilla and something deeper, something that makes my magic purr with contentment.
“Always,” I promise.
The kitchen is quiet when I pad downstairs, bare feet silent on cool stone. Most of the sanctuary is still sleeping—these early hours have become sacred to me. Time when it’s just us, just the soft sounds of her breathing and the steady beat of my heart against her back.
I measure out the tea carefully. Earl grey with bergamot, and a touch of honey. The way she’s started taking it lately. Not the simple chamomile she used to prefer, but something richer, more complex. At least that’s what Theo tells me.
She’s changing. Growing. Becoming the woman she was always meant to be.
The water is just reaching a boil when arms slip around my waist from behind. Familiar weight, familiar warmth. She presses a kiss between my shoulder blades, and heat flares through me so suddenly I have to grip the counter to stay upright.
“Smells perfect,” she murmurs against my skin.
“Not ready yet,” I manage, though my voice comes out rougher than intended.
“I wasn’t talking about the tea.”
Her hands slide under my shirt, palms flat against my stomach, and my fire magic responds like she’s struck a match. Heat races through my veins, pooling under my skin wherever she touches.
She laughs softly, a sound I’m still getting used to. Rich and knowing and completely unafraid.
“I love how you react to me,” she says, lips moving against my spine. Her hands drift lower, fingers working at my belt. “Like you can’t help yourself.”
I can’t. That’s the truth of it. My breath catches as her hand slips inside my pants, warm fingers wrapping around me with confident familiarity.
“The others are worried about you,” she says, voice conversational even as her hand moves with deliberate slowness.
I try to focus on her words, but heat is building under my skin, making it hard to think. “What do you mean?”
“Gray asked me yesterday if you were okay.” Her thumb traces over the head of my cock, and I have to grip the counter to stay upright. “Said you’ve been… intense lately.”
My hips jerk into her touch before I can stop myself. “Are you—fuck—are you worried about me?”
She increases her pace slightly, and my vision blurs at the edges. “No. I like you intense. I like that you can’t bear to let me out of your sight.”
The kettle whistles, but I can barely hear it over the blood rushing in my ears. Her free hand reaches around me to turn off the burner while she continues stroking me with maddening precision.
“I can’t lose you again,” I manage, the words torn from somewhere deep in my chest. “After we found you in that chamber—”
“Shh.” Her teeth graze my shoulder blade, and I’m lost. “You didn’t lose me. I’m right here.”
Her hand moves faster, and the fire under my skin flares brighter. For just a moment, I swear I feel something pull from me—warmth, energy, something essential. But then I’m coming apart in her hands, pleasure washing over me in waves, and rational thought disappears entirely.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispers against my spine as I shake in her arms. “I promise.”
I believe her. Gods help me, with her touch still burning on my skin, I believe everything she tells me.
Even when a voice in the back of my head whispers that promises can be broken. That the woman we found standing at that mirror, confident and unafraid, felt different than the one who used to reach for me in the dark.
Even when I remember how she used to take her tea with just honey, no bergamot.
Even when my fire magic reacts to her touch like it’s trying to tell me something I’m not ready to hear.
