“No,” I say immediately, surprising both of us with the force of it. “You trusted someone from your tribe. That’s not foolish.”
His hands curl into fists. “He made the hole when he built this. He suggested this hut. I put you here.” He looks up at me, eyes dark and blazing. “I put you in danger.”
I reach out before I can think better of it and touch his wrist.
“Crat'ax,” I say. “Listen to me.”
He stills instantly, like a beast going quiet at a sound it recognizes.
“I not survive that because of luck,” I continue. “I survived because ofyou. Because you came. Because you always come.”
His breath stutters.
The silence between us thickens, heavy with everything that almost happened and everything that still could. My body is still buzzing with leftover fear, but beneath it something else is waking up. Something hot and insistent. Because now that the fear is gone, there’s room for something better.
I’m painfully aware of how close he is. Of the strength in his arms, the solidity of him, the way the air seems to bend differently around his body. And of the care, how he hasn’t taken anything from me without asking, even now.
Well, he took me. We’ll have to talk about that someday. But not tonight.
Tonight, I don’t want to wait anymore.
I don’t want to lie here wondering if tomorrow I’ll be dragged screaming into the dark again, if safety is something that can evaporate in the space of a breath. I want something real. Something anchored. Something that belongs to me because I chose it.
And I choose Crat'ax.
12
- Callie-
I slide my hand down his forearm, slow and deliberate, feeling the dense muscle shift under my fingers. The reaction is immediate. Tension snaps through him like a rope pulled too tight.
“Callie…” he warns softly, not unkindly.
“I know,” I say. My heart is racing again, but this time it isn’t fear driving it.
He studies my face, searching with that relentless focus of his, as if he expects to find fractures beneath the surface. Doubt, panic, something he can protect me from.
There is none.
“I want you,” I say simply.
The breath leaves him in a long, uneven exhale, like he’s been holding it for far too long. For a moment, I think he might pullaway. Instead, he leans in until his forehead rests against mine, grounding himself, grounding us.
“Once,” he says quietly. “If I touch you now, I will not be able to stop.”
I give him a little smile. “Then don’t stop.”
I lift my hand and lay it flat over his chest. His heart beats slow and powerful beneath my palm, a rhythm that feels steady enough to borrow. It vibrates up my arm and settles somewhere deep behind my ribs.
“I won’t,” he assures me.
“Mm.”
His eyes hold mine for one last heartbeat. Then restraint fractures.
He kisses me like a man who has been drowning and finally finds air.
It’s hungry and reverent all at once, frantic without being careless. His mouth is hot against mine, his tongue tasting of salt and something faintly metallic, like the air after a storm breaks. I moan into him without thinking, and the sound seems to go straight through his body—his grip tightens, lifting me until my thighs bracket his hips and my back presses against a rough beam. The platform creaks beneath us, but he barely seems to notice.
