“I’m not asking for it.” I hold his gaze steadily. “Not yet. Maybe not ever. But I need you to know—“ Deep breath. “I need you to know that when I look at the options in front of me, the idea of being bound to you isn’t the part that scares me.”
The silence stretches. I watch his throat work as he swallows. Watch his hands flex at his sides, the visible effort of maintaining the distance between us.
“What does scare you?” Barely above a whisper.
“That I’m starting to want it.” The confession lands between us, raw and honest and terrifying. “Not because of Valdris. Not because of the mark. Because of you. Because every time you make me laugh, I feel something crack open in my chest. Because when I wake from nightmares, you’re the first thing I look for.”
He’s so still. For once in his life, completely motionless. I can see his pulse jumping in his throat, can feel the heat radiating off him in waves.
“Before the dragons,” I continue, because I’ve started this and I might as well finish, “I had my life planned out. Practice in Cork. Maybe a partner eventually. Controlled. Predictable. Safe.” A bitter laugh escapes. “And then I woke up chained to a stone altar with my blood feeding an ancient evil, and every plan I’d ever made turned to ash.”
“Aisling—“
“I’m not finished.” I need him to hear this. Need someone to understand. “When the Brotherhood rescued me, I thought—I thought if I could just get back to that control, that predictability, I could pretend none of it happened. But I can’t. I can’t go back to being the person I was before. She doesn’t exist anymore.”
“Good.” His voice is rough. “Because the person you are now? She’s extraordinary.”
I force myself to breathe. “You make me want things I’d given up on wanting.”
Rurik moves.
Not toward me—not yet. Just a shift, a lean that brings him closer without closing the gap entirely. “What kinds of things?”
“Companionship. Trust. Someone who sees the worst parts of me and doesn’t run.” My laugh comes out shaky. “I spent weeks being drained by monsters, and somehow the scariest thing I’ve done since then is telling you this.”
“It’s not scary.” His hand rises, hovers near my cheek without making contact. Asking. Always asking. “It’s brave. And for what it’s worth—I’ve spent three centuries running from exactly what you just described.”
“Running toward or away?”
“Both.” His smile is crooked, self-deprecating. “Convincing myself I didn’t need it. That the performance was enough. That if I just kept moving, kept joking, kept burning through everything that got close?—“
“You wouldn’t have to feel anything real.”
His breath catches. “You really do see me.”
“I really do.” I reach up, cover his hovering hand with my own, and press his palm against my cheek. His skin is warm. His fingers tremble slightly. “Is that so terrible?”
“It’s terrifying.” He turns his hand, lacing his fingers through mine. “And it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
The kiss, when it comes, isn’t desperate.
It’s soft. Almost questioning. His mouth finds mine gently, carefully, giving me time to pull away if I want to. I don’t want to.
I lean in instead. Let my free hand find the collar of his shirt. Let myself feel his heat, the solid reality of his presence, the fire that rises in my chest to meet his.
This isn’t the clash I expected—not the explosive collision of two stubborn people finally giving in. It’s something quieter. More deliberate. Two people choosing each other with open eyes and honest words.
When we break apart, his forehead rests against mine. Our breath mingles in the space between us.
“For the record,” he murmurs, “when you tried to burn me? Best day of my life.”
I laugh—really laugh, the sound startling in the quiet air. “You’re absolutely insane.”
“Probably.” His thumb traces my cheekbone. “But you like it.”
“I do.” The admission doesn’t feel like surrender. It feels like freedom. “Against my better judgment, I really do.”
His arms come around me then—a full embrace, nothing restrained about it. I lean into his chest, feel his heart hammering against my cheek, let myself be held in a way I haven’t allowed since before the captivity.
