I watch her breathe.
This small human woman. Running from something that terrifies her, but still brave enough to reach for me. Still trusting enough to fall asleep in a monster's arms. To let me inside her body and hold nothing back.
My fingers trace her shoulder blade. Light enough not to wake her.
I can't remember the last time I slept beside anyone. Can't remember the last time I wanted to.
She's demolished it all.
She stirs, eyes fluttering open to meet mine. The smile that curves her lips is slow and intimate and just for me, and something in my chest stumbles.
"Morning." Her voice rasps with sleep.
"Morning."
She stretches against me. My cock twitches. Not yet. She needs food. Coffee. Time to breathe before I worship her again.
"Sleep okay?"
Her smile widens. "Best I've had in years."
The great room buzzes when we emerge. Brothers crowd the kitchen island, plates piled with eggs and bacon. Coffee scents the air, cutting through everything else.
Finn spots us first.
His smirk could light the room on fire. He raises his mug in silent toast, eyebrow climbing toward his hairline. Doesn't say a word. Doesn't need to.
Rex catches my eye across the room and nods once. Garrett—massive and silent in the corner—tilts his chin in approval. From the minotaur, that means more than a standing ovation from anyone else.
My palm finds the small of Sarah's back, possessive and unmistakable. My brothers don't need words to understand what they're seeing.
Diesel bounds over with his usual puppy energy, practically vibrating. "Are you staying? You're staying, right? Knox never brings anyone here—like, ever. This is huge. Do you like waffles? I made waffles. They're pretty good. The old ladies taught me."
Sarah laughs—bright and genuine—and warmth floods through me.
"Diesel." I keep my voice even. "Breathe."
"Right. Yeah. Sorry." He grins at Sarah. "Waffles?"
"I'd love some waffles."
Lisa appears from the kitchen and pulls Sarah into a hug before I can blink. "About damn time," she announces, loud enough for the whole room. "I thought I'd have to lock you two in a closet."
The old ladies fold Sarah in without hesitation. Lisa presses coffee into her hands. Maria steers her toward the breakfast spread with promises of the best bacon in Oregon. Betty—arrived early with fresh pies—beams at her like a proud mother.
Sarah blushes but doesn't pull away. Doesn't look for exits.
She belongs here.
The thought hits me again, harder than before. She fits into this space I built like she carved it herself. Like she always belonged here and I just didn't know to look for her.
My throat tightens. Hope. That's what this feeling is. Dangerous, fragile hope.
We slip away after breakfast, back to my quarters where it's just the two of us.
I pace the room, hunting for words that won't come. I've faced down threats that would make most men piss themselves. Made decisions that determine lives. And I can't string together a simple sentence.
"Stay." It scrapes out wrong. Too rough. I try again. "I know I'm too old. Too damaged. I've done things that would—"
