Poppy mumbled against his shoulder, “You feel warm.”
“You feel like moonlight,” he whispered back.
She smiled sleepily. “That’s nice.”
He laid her down gently on their blankets, but when he tried to move away, her hand fisted in his robe.
“Stay.”
As if he could ever do anything else.
He slid beside her, pulling her carefully into his arms. She curled under his chin with surprising ease, glowing softly in the cradle of his body, her magic humming against his ribs like a second heartbeat.
He wrapped both arms around her. Not as a Guardian. Not as a Councilor, but as a man terrified of losing her.
Poppy exhaled, warm and trusting. “Mingxi…?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t let go until morning.”
His throat tightened. “I won’t,” he whispered. “Not for anything.”
She sighed, already drifting into sleep.
Moonlight pooled around them.
His arms tightened. The night deepened, and for the first time in centuries, Mingxi knew he wouldn’t sleep—not because he couldn’t, but because holding her awake was a blessing he refused to waste.
The world might try to claim her, but he would keep her safe and warm that night. His to protect. He pressed his forehead to her hair.
“Sleep, Poppy,” he murmured.
“I have you.”
The valley, ancient and knowing, settled into silence around them.
Her breath steadied. The tension left her spine.
Under the silver glow, under the watch of the moonwell itself, she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep. Poppy’s breathing softened within moments, settling into a slow, steady rhythm that brushed against Mingxi’s senses like warm fingers. Moonlight pooled over her face, catching on the curve of her cheek, the damp ends of her hair, the faint shimmer still clinging to her skin from the moonwater.
She looked peaceful.
She had never looked peaceful. Not since the moment he met her—fierce, guarded, sharp-edged because the world had demanded it of her. But here, beneath the silver haze of the moonwell, she finally slept.
Mingxi let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His chest ached with something far more dangerous than fear. He shifted only enough to brace one arm behind him, so her head rested comfortably against his shoulder. The tiniest movement, and yet his heart tightened as if he’d stepped off a cliff.
Why does this feel like something I cannot afford to want?
Poppy murmured softly in her sleep, her brow smoothing again. He knew she trusted him—trusted him enough to lean into him, to let herself fall unconscious beside him in a sacred place she had never seen before today.
She should not trust him. He was Foxborn, a Guardian, a weapon when needed.
She was moonborn, fate-tangled, carrying power she did not yet understand.
Yet she trusted him anyway.
He lowered his gaze. Fine strands of her hair brushed his collarbone, glowing faintly in the moonlight’s reflection off the water. He resisted the quiet, foolish urge to tuck them behind her ear.
