Bright green light came from what looked like a giant flower bud in his hand. It was still closed up, the outside texture almost like paper as Gunnar held it high. He looked soaked right to the bone. She was too.
But there was something very intriguing about the way his hair had slicked back, revealing all those interesting peaks and hollows that she'd always liked. He was so handsome. His whole form had clearly been kissed by the gods. Square jaw, proud nose, a forehead that was both stern and somehow kind. She had never seen a man who looked like him before. Even now, living with trolls, she had never seen one who was as easy to look at as this man.
His shirt clung to his chest, revealing endless miles of muscle. He was so strong. Of course, all of his kind were. She'd yet to meet a troll who wasn't more powerful than even the strongest of humans. But this man wore muscles with a tempered edge. He was... Gunnar. Her Gunnar.
"What were you thinking?" he growled as he stalked toward her. "You could have gotten us both killed! Or worse, we could have been injured down here and died slowly."
"We are both still alive."
"By the luck of the gods themselves! Damn it, woman! If you had just stepped away from the edge of that cliff when I told you to, we wouldn't be in this position. You were reckless. Without reason. You have to listen to people when they are trying to keep you safe, Rose. You cannot keep taking your life into your own hands and assuming that you aren't going to die! One of these times, you won’t make it."
His chest was heaving up and down with his anger, clearly barely able to hold it together. He had never yelled at her like this.
But he was right. She had scared him, scared both of them, and now that they’d survived the fall, there was nothing else she wanted to do but look at him.
He was alive.
He had kept her safe.
Just like always. Gunnar had always been the person to keep her safe, even when he hadn't known who she was. He'd found her in that labyrinth and worked for nearly a year to piece her back together because at the end of the day that was all he wanted. He wanted her to be whole and happy and living a life that she was proud of.
Gunnar was one of the rare men in this world who didn't see her as a prop, a tool, or a doll. He saw her as Rose, and that was more than she could ever ask for.
Maybe it was the insanity of almost dying. Maybe it was the realization that they were both alive and that she wasn't as broken as she thought. Whatever madness it was, it had her moving through the water toward him. Sloshing as the eddies broke against her thighs and created foam around her hips.
He eyed her with suspicion in his gaze because clearly she was up to something. He could see it. She could feel it.
But he did nothing when she headed right up to him and started scolding him back. "I don't like being ordered around anymore. I don't have any interest in you telling me what to do or what is healthy for me. I am my own person."
"You are going to get yourself killed."
"So what?"
"So what?" he barked. "I have not dedicated the past year of my life to watching over you only for you to kill yourself!"
"If it's what I want, then that's what I'm going to do."
"I will not lose you, Rose."
She was so close to him now that she could see the emotion in his eyes. The loss, the fear, the regret. "Why not?"
The question seemed to stagger him. As if the mere thought that she couldn't understand why he would be heartbroken at the thought of losing her made his head spin.
Gunnar paused, staring into her eyes with that green light lifted over his head. They stood just an arm's length apart in a calm pool of water in a cavern that was just big enough for them to stand in.
And he replied, "You are far too precious to me to lose, Rose."
Whatever piece of her that had broken from years of misuse fit right back into the place it always should have been. She didn't think. She didn't breathe. She just stepped forward and pressed her hands to his cheeks. Rose drew his face down to hers and pressed a kiss to his lips.
Years upon years of experience hadn't ever prepared her for this. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d willingly kissed someone. Maybe she had when she’d been a teenager, sneaking off with boys in a way that had been far too dangerous for her to do at that age. But she didn't have those memories anymore. All she had were the memories of torment and torture, and none of those men had kissed her.
They hadn't wanted to.
All they’d seen when they’d looked at her was a toy to be used, abused, and then used again. So for her to have this moment, she was a little lost.
She didn't know how to kiss. She didn't know how to make this moment more special than it already was. And part of her was still waiting to flinch, waiting for all those memories to come back up. The moment she thought about them, they swelled in her mind.
But then Gunnar placed his hand on the back of her head, gentle, always so gentle, and he kissed her back.
