“Really.” Kivani’s hand came up to cup Dakota’s face, his thumb brushing across his mate’s lower lip. “The bond told me to pay attention to you. Everything else—the way I feel when you laugh, the way I want to make you smile, the way I can’t stop thinking about you—that’s all me.”
“Okay.” Dakota’s eyes searched Kivani’s face, looking for something. “I believe you.”
Relief flooded through Kivani’s system, his tiger settling further. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Dakota leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to Kivani’s mouth. “I still need time to process everything, but I believe that what you feel is real.”
“Take all the time you need.” Kivani returned the kiss, keeping it gentle. “I’m not going anywhere.”
They settled back into the couch, Dakota curled against Kivani’s side. The apartment was quiet except for their breathing, the occasional sound of a car passing on the street below. Kivani’s hand kept moving on Dakota’s back, rubbing slow circles that made his mate relax further into him.
“So what happens now?” Dakota asked after a while. “Do we just go back to normal? Pretend vampires and shifters don’t exist?”
“I don’t think you can pretend something doesn't exist once you know about it.” Kivani’s fingers found the hem of Dakota’s shirt—when had he put that back on?—and slipped underneath to touch bare skin. “But we don’t have to make any big decisions tonight. Tonight we just exist here, together.”
“That sounds good.” Dakota’s hand found Kivani’s free hand, their fingers interlacing. “I like existing here with you.”
“Good.” He pressed another kiss to Dakota’s head. “Because I plan on you existing here with me a lot more.”
His mate made a soft sound, something between contentment and exhaustion. His body was getting heavier against Kivani’s, his breathing evening out. His tiger rumbled with satisfaction, pleased their mate felt safe enough to sleep.
Chapter Eight
Dakota stood in his apartment doorway, running his fingers along the new frame. The wood was smooth, unmarred, the lock mechanism solid when he tested it. Kivani had replaced everything, right down to the hinges, and the door now closed with a satisfying click that made Dakota feel safer than he had in weeks.
“Better?” Kivani’s voice came from behind him, warm and close enough that Dakota could feel the heat radiating from his body.
“Much better.” He turned the lock back and forth, listening to the smooth slide of metal. “Thank you for fixing it so fast.”
“Hardware store opened at six. I was there at six-oh-one.” Kivani leaned against the doorframe, and Dakota tried not to stare at the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders. Failed completely, but tried. “Figured you'd want to feel secure in your own space again.”
The thoughtfulness made something warm bloom in Dakota’s stomach. He’d spent so many months with Bennett, who had never once considered what Dakota needed or wanted unless it directly benefited him. Having someone actually care about his comfort felt foreign and wonderful and slightly terrifying all at once.
“I do feel more secure.” Dakota locked and unlocked the door one more time, just because he could. “Though, I have to admit, your couch was pretty comfortable.”
Kivani’s smile was slow, satisfied in a way that made Dakota’s face heat. “You’re welcome back anytime. Door's always open for you.”
The double meaning wasn't lost on Dakota, and his brain immediately supplied images from last night. Kivani’s mouth on him, the sounds he’d made, the way his hands had felt everywhere they touched. Dakota cleared his throat and focused very hard on the door lock to avoid embarrassing himself.
“So…” Dakota said, because the silence was getting dangerous. “What are you doing today? More taffy making?”
“Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to learn.” Kivani pushed off the doorframe, moving closer. “You've been organizing my supplies for weeks now. Seems only fair you get to see what I actually do with them.”
The offer made Dakota’s heart do something complicated behind his ribs. He’d watched Kivani work before, seen him pull taffy with those strong arms until the candy achieved the perfect texture. But actually participating, learning the process, felt like being invited into something private and important.
“Really? You'd teach me?” Dakota couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice, didn’t even try.
“I'd love to teach you.” Kivani’s hand found Dakota’s lower back, a casual touch that felt anything but. “Come on. I’ve got a batch ready to pull.”
They went downstairs together, and Dakota was hyperaware of Kivani’s hand on his back, guiding him through the door to the shop. The sweet smell hit him immediately, sugar and vanilla and something fruity. Kivani led him to the kitchen where a slab of golden taffy sat cooling on the marble counter.
“This is honey lemon,” Kivani explained, moving to wash his hands at the sink. “Good starter flavor because it’s forgiving. Not too sticky, pulls easy.”
Dakota washed his hands beside him, their arms brushing. The casual contact made his skin feel too warm, too sensitive, and he had to focus on getting his hands properly clean instead of thinking about what those hands had done to Kivani last night.
“So what do I do?” Dakota dried his hands on the towel Kivani offered, trying to channel some confidence he didn’t feel.
“First, we need to portion it out.” Kivani moved to the taffy and cut off a section with a large knife. “This is about the right amount for one person to work. Too much and your arms will give out.”
