I tried to laugh it off, but it came out softer than I meant. “Haven’t we been over this?”
Simon smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth trembling. “I’m just happy,” he said. “That you did.”
The space between us felt charged, heavy with everything we hadn’t said. For the first time that night, the fear that had been clawing at me finally began to fade.
“Simon,” I murmured, my voice catching on his name.
He didn’t move away. “What?”
I didn’t have an answer that made sense. So I reached up instead, my fingers trembling slightly as I touched his face. My thumb traced the line of his jaw, the warmth beneath his skin.
He leaned into my touch, eyes half-lidded, breath shallow.
It hit me then, how close I’d come to losing this. To losing him. Every inch of him felt like something I’d almost never get to touch again. The thought made something twist painfully in my chest.
I couldn’t stand the distance anymore.
I leaned in, closing the space between us, and kissed him. Soft at first, uncertain. Then deeper, hungrier, the kind of kiss that stole the breath from both of us.
He made a quiet sound and his fingers curled in my shirt, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. The world narrowed to the press of his mouth and the warmth of his body.
The comforting and familiar scent of him filled my senses. For a moment, there was no Guild, no fear, no running. Just us.
When we finally broke apart, I rested my forehead against his, my pulse racing.
“We’ll stay here during the day, travel at night,” I whispered, still catching my breath. “The Guild?—”
“I know,” he interrupted softly. His voice was low, steady in a way that anchored me. “But I’m not worried.”
I gave a shaky laugh. “It won’t be easy.”
“I know,” he said again, smiling faintly. “But I’d rather face what’s next with you than without you.”
That shouldn’t have undone me the way it did, but it did. The simplicity of it, the quiet certainty. He tugged gently at my sleeve, wordless. I went willingly.
We didn’t talk much after that. Words felt too small for what was happening between us. We just existed, quiet and close, as if our bodies had already learned a language our mouths couldn’t keep up with.
He leaned back against the headboard, and I settled beside him, shoulder to shoulder, thigh against thigh. The warmth of him seeped into me, grounding and steady.
His hand found mine again, fingers lacing through like it was something he’d done a hundred times before. Like he’d never stopped.
“How are you feeling?” I asked after a while, my voice low.
He tilted his head toward me, his lashes heavy. “Like I could sleep for a week.”
“Then do that,” I said. “I’ll keep watch.”
He frowned, his thumb tracing idle circles on the back of my hand. “Kit, you need rest too.”
“Later,” I assured him.
He studied me for a long moment, like he could see every scar, every habit I’d never quite shaken.
Then he shifted closer, his shoulder brushing mine, his voice soft when he said, “You can rely on me too, you know. We’re in this together.”
That one hit deeper than I expected. I swallowed hard, eyes falling to our joined hands.
“Old habits,” I said quietly. “I’ll do better.”
