It should have been annoying, grating on nerves already raw from exhaustion and worry. Instead, each tiny demand felt like a gift—like being welcomed into a family, being trusted with the small intimacies that made up daily life.
This is what it could be,his beast whispered.Every day. This is what you’re fighting for.
He carried the tray to the bedroom and helped Jessa sit up properly to eat. Her color was much better now, and she attacked the food with an appetite that spoke well for her recovery.
“You’re spoiling me,” she said between bites.
“Unlikely.”
“All this attention. All this service.” She smiled at him over the rim of her cup—the blue one. “I could get used to it.”
“Then get used to it.”
Something flickered in her eyes at that. Something warm and wondering and a little afraid.
“Careful,” she said softly. “I might hold you to that.”
“I hope you do.”
Dani, apparently deciding that the romantic tension had become excessive, inserted herself between them.
“When can she get up and walk around?”
Tarek considered. “Tomorrow, perhaps. Short distances. Her ankle needs time to heal properly.”
“And then we can go back to gathering berries? Jessa was going to show me how to make dye.”
“Eventually. When she’s stronger.”
“How much stronger?”
“Dani.” Jessa reached out to touch her sister’s cheek. “Patience. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know.” But Dani’s voice wobbled slightly. “I just… I like it when things are normal. When we’re all together doing things. When I don’t have to worry.”
The naked vulnerability in her words made his chest ache.
“You don’t have to worry,” he said, the words coming rough and low. “Not anymore. I’ll keep you both safe.”
Dani turned to look at him, her blue eyes too wise for her years. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
Night fell over the mountain like a gentle blanket, muffling the sounds of the forest and turning the den into a cocoon of warmth and flickering firelight.
Dani finally surrendered to exhaustion, her body catching up on the sleep she’d missed during Jessa’s crisis. Tarek carried her toher small room, tucked her in with extra furs, and listened to her breathing slow into the deep rhythm of true rest.
When he returned to the larger bedroom, Jessa was sitting up against her pillows, watching the fire.
“She’s asleep?”
“Deeply.” He settled into the chair beside the bed, then thought better of it. “Can I?—”
“Yes.”
She shifted to make room, and he stretched out beside her on the furs, careful not to jostle her injured ankle. For a long moment, they simply lay there together, listening to the fire crackle and the mountain breathe.
“Tarek.”
