But under it—him.
Tatek.
The scent of someone who has held me through storms and fire and memory loss and pain. Who came for me when he didn’t have to. Who keeps showing up, no matter how hard I push.
I press my lips to the center of his chest, right where his heart is.
“Still awake?” I whisper.
A soft hum rumbles against my cheek. “Wouldn’t dream of sleeping through this.”
I smile.
My voice is smaller when I speak again. “Feels like a dream.”
His hand pauses, then resumes its motion along my back. “It’s not.”
“How do you know?”
He shifts a little so he can look down at me. “Because you’re here. And I’ve never once been lucky enough to dream that right.”
My throat tightens.
I kiss his skin again, then lay my head back down.
There’s no light in the room. No glowstrips. No ambient systems hum. Just darkness and body heat and this small space we’ve claimed for ourselves in a universe that tried to write us out.
I let one of my legs slip between his.
He doesn’t say anything, just lets me get comfortable.
Lets me feel safe.
We stay like that for a long time.
Wrapped up in each other.
Finally, he breaks the silence.
“We’ll have to leave this place eventually.”
I nod, not lifting my head. “I know.”
“But not tonight.”
“No,” I whisper. “Not tonight.”
He exhales. “Good.”
I think I fall asleep like that—his breath in my hair, his fingers tracing peace into my spine.
And for the first time in a long, long time?—
I don’t wake up afraid.
CHAPTER 25
TATEK
