I want to argue. Want to tell him I’ve never felt more alive, more present in my body, than I do right now with his weight pressing me into the mattress. But the concern in his eyes stops me. He’s not rejecting me. He’s protecting me—even from himself.
“Okay,” I whisper.
He releases my wrists, rolls onto his back beside me. Both of us stare at the ceiling, breathing hard. The distance between us feels like miles now, cold air rushing into the space his body left behind.
“Dane.”
“Yeah?” His voice is still rough.
“Stay anyway.”
He turns his head to look at me. I shift closer, pressing my back against his side. After a moment, his arm wraps around me, pulling me close. I settle against his chest, feeling his heart pound beneath my ear.
We lie there as the light strengthens, letting our breathing slow. Not the end of something. Not quite the beginning. Just a moment, suspended.
Finally, I turn in his arms to face him. His eyes track every shift in my expression, still dark with banked heat.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
His brow furrows. “For?”
“Knowing when to stop. Even when I didn’t want you to.” I trace a scar on his chest, watching goosebumps rise in the wake of my touch. “Even when I still don’t want you to.”
Something flickers in his gaze—surprise, maybe. Understanding. His arm tightens around my waist, one brief squeeze, then releases.
“When you’re healed,” he says, voice low. A promise.
Heat curls through me. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
“I’m counting on it.”
I start to slide from the bed, legs unsteady for entirely different reasons now.
His hand catches my wrist. Not pulling. Just holding.
“Stay,” he says. “We’ll face them together.”
I look at him—morning stubble darkening his jaw, hair rumpled, scars silver in the pale light. Still shirtless. Still looking at me like he wants to drag me back down and finish what we started.
“The pack—“
“Can wait five more minutes.” His thumb traces circles on my pulse point. “Get dressed. We walk out together.”
Not a request. A statement.
I hold his gaze for a moment longer, letting him see everything I’m feeling—the want, the gratitude, the something deeper I’m not ready to name.
“Okay. Together,” I agree.
Chapter 28
Dane
Ipull on my boots, feeling the floorboards creak under my weight. Nova moves silently, gathering her jacket, sliding her knife back into its sheath. Her magic feels stable now, not crackling beneath her skin like it did last night. Just a steady, cool pulse that matches her movements.
She catches me watching, raises an eyebrow. “Ready?”
I nod once.
