They didn’t talk after that. Leo listened to her breathing slow and deepen as sleep claimed her. He felt the weight of her body against his, the pressure of her hand over his heart, the steady presence of Glimmer’s watchful gaze at the foot of the bed.
For the first time in twenty years, Leo Castellan fell asleep without fighting for control.
He let himself be held by someone who had chosen to stay.
And for the first time in longer than he could remember, his dreams were quiet.
TWENTY-FIVE
JUNIE
Junie woke to the unfamiliar sensation of being held.
Not the weight of blankets or morning sunlight or Glimmer’s scales against her skin. This was different. Solid. Alive. A furnace of heat pressed against her back, an arm heavy across her waist, breath stirring the hair at her temple in slow, even rhythm.
Leo.
She lay still, cataloging sensations she’d never experienced. The weight of another person in her bed. The way his body curved around hers, protective even in sleep. The steady thump of his heartbeat against her shoulder blade, strong and sure.
The events of the previous night crashed back in fragments: blood on the hallway carpet, the sharp copper scent of it, her hands shaking as she’d pressed healing paste into wounds that had looked fatal. His voice, rough and broken, admitting things she wasn’t sure either of them had been ready to hear.
Because you’re here. Because you’re the only person I want.
And then—the kiss. Soft at first, questioning, and then his hands in her hair and her body pressed against his and the entire world narrowing to that single point of contact.
They hadn’t done anything else. Kissed until they were both breathless, and then he’d asked her to stay, and she had. They’d fallen asleep tangled in each other, his arm holding her close even as exhaustion pulled him under.
Junie had expected to lie awake for hours, overthinking. Instead, she’d slept better than she had in weeks. No dreams. No restless tossing. Deep, dreamless rest and the unfamiliar security of being held.
Now, in the pale light of early morning, she became acutely aware of several things at once: Leo’s chest against her back, rising and falling with each breath. His arm across her waist, heavy with sleep-slack weight. The fact that she was still wearing yesterday’s tank top and shorts, and he was still shirtless, the bandages she’d applied stark white against his skin.
And Glimmer, coiled on the bedside table, watching her with an expression that managed to convey bothI told you soandyou’re on your own with this one.
"Thanks for the support," Junie muttered.
Glimmer’s tongue flickered. Her scales remained that neutral amber—not hostile, not approving. Waiting.
Behind her, Leo stirred.
“You’re awake.”
His voice was rough with sleep, low and rumbling against her hair. Junie felt the words vibrate through him where his chest pressed against her back.
“Barely.” She didn’t move. Wasn’t sure she wanted to. “How long have you been conscious?”
“A few minutes.”
“And you didn’t say anything?”
“You were comfortable.” A pause. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Junie’s pulse stuttered. She rolled over to face him, careful not to jostle his injured side.
In the morning light, Leo looked different. Softer, despite the sharp lines of his jaw and the tension that never quite left his shoulders. His hair was mussed from sleep, falling across his forehead in a way that made her fingers itch to push it back. The bandage on his shoulder was slightly pink—blood seeping through, but less than she’d expected.
“Your wounds.” She reached for the bandage’s edge. “Let me check them.”
“They’re healing.”
