“Maybe.” She leaned up to press a kiss to his mouth, soft and sweet and full of promise. “But maybe some parts of that person are still worth keeping.”
He kissed her back, pouring all the things he couldn’t say into the press of his lips against hers. When they finally drew apart, the first light of dawn was creeping through the entrance to the den.
“We should sleep,” she murmured against his shoulder.
“We should,” he agreed, though neither of them moved.
They sat there together, watching the darkness give way to light, and from the other room, Dani’s clear, healthy breathing drifted through the silence like a blessing.
CHAPTER 22
Jessa woke to the gentle press of Tarek’s body against her back, his arm heavy and possessive across her waist, his breath stirring the loose strands of hair at her temple.
She didn’t move, unwilling to disturb this moment of perfect peace.
Morning light filtered through the gaps in the woven hanging that covered the window, painting golden stripes across the furs beneath them. She had no real memory of falling asleep—only of sitting with Tarek by the fire as dawn broke, her head on his shoulder, listening to the steady rhythm of Dani’s breathing from the other room.
They must have stumbled to bed at some point. She thought she remembered him guiding her, half-carrying her when her exhausted legs threatened to give out. His arms had wrapped around her, pulling her close, his voice a low rumble against her ear.
Sleep now. I have you.
And she had. For the first time in days, she had slept without nightmares, without the constant gnawing fear that she would wake to find her sister gone.
She slowly eased out from under his arm. He stirred, a low sound of protest rumbling in his chest, but didn’t wake. She paused, studying his face in the morning light.
The harsh lines of tension that usually bracketed his mouth had softened in sleep. His dark hair fell across his forehead in disarray, making him look younger and less guarded. The faint glow of his green eyes was hidden behind closed lids, and without that alien luminescence, she could almost forget that he wasn’t human.
Almost.
But she didn’t want to forget. She loved the things that made him different—the slight point of his ears, the way his canines caught on his lower lip when he slept, the retracted claws that left faint indentations in the furs where his hands rested. He was other, and he was hers, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
She brushed a kiss across his forehead, feather-light.
Sleep,she thought.You’ve earned it.
She slipped quietly out of the bedroom and made her way to Dani’s room.
The small space had been transformed since Dani decided to occupy it. Where once it had been a bare storage alcove, it was now a proper bedroom with a bed built from salvaged wood and covered in soft furs. A small shelf held Dani’s treasures—interesting rocks, dried flowers, and an abandoned bird’s nestshe’d found in the garden. Jessa had made the woven hanging that covered the entrance.
Dani lay curled on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek, her dark hair a wild tangle across the pillow. Her breathing was deep and even, and there was no trace of the fever flush that had terrified Jessa for so long.
She’s going to be all right.
The relief of that thought drove the air from her lungs and made her eyes burn with sudden tears. She’d been afraid to believe it before, afraid that hoping would only make the disappointment worse if…
No. She wasn’t going to think about that anymore. It was over. Tarek’s medicine had worked, and Dani was going to be all right, and for the first time in years, she could imagine a future that didn’t revolve around her sister’s illness.
She reached out to check Dani’s temperature, pressing the back of her hand gently to her forehead.
Dark lashes fluttered and blue eyes—their mother’s eyes—blinked open, unfocused with sleep.
“Jessa?”
“I’m here, sweetheart.” She smoothed the tangled hair back from Dani’s face. “How do you feel?”
“Hungry.” The answer came immediately, followed by a crooked grin that made her heart clench with joy. “Really hungry. Like I could eat a whole pig.”
“We don’t have a whole pig, but I can make oatmeal. Would that work?”
