I close the door behind us. The click of the lock sounds louder than it should.
For a long moment, we just stand there.
The adrenaline hasn’t left him yet. I can still sense it, sharp and bright beneath his skin, braided now with desire, trust, the echo of being protected. It curls in the air between us, thick and undeniable.
“You scared me,” I say finally.
He looks up at me, startled. “I—Boone, but I didn’t?—”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m not angry at you,” I cut in, voice low and firm. “I’m angry that I didn’t turn us back sooner.”
His shoulders ease slightly. “You couldn’t have known.”
“I should have felt it faster.”
“You did,” he insists. “You got us out. You kept me safe.”
The words hit deep.
I take a step toward him without thinking. He doesn’t retreat. If anything, he leans in, drawn like there’s a line pulling him straight to my chest.
“I will always keep you safe,” I say, and the truth of it is absolute enough to scare me.
He swallows. “I know.”
Silence stretches again, taut and charged.
“I was terrified,” he admits quietly. “And then you stepped in front of me and everything else just… faded. I’ve never felt that kind of certainty before.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides. “That certainty can be dangerous.”
“Maybe,” he says, eyes never leaving mine. “But it felt right.”
That—that—is the problem.
I cross the remaining distance between us in two strides and cup his face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, grounding us both. His breath catches. His hands come up instinctively, gripping my wrists like he needs the anchor.
“You don’t get to scare me like that,” I murmur.
A smile ghosts across his mouth. “You don’t get to scare me like that either.”
Despite myself, a low laugh rumbles out of me. “Fair.”
I lean in, pressing my forehead to his, breathing him in. It’s so much easier with just a few inches between us. The motel room feels too small suddenly, the walls pressing close around everything we’re not saying.
“Do you know what that thi—cryptid,” he corrects quickly with a blush. “Do you know what species it was? I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
That stops me.
I pull back just enough to look at him properly, and I realize he isn’t asking out of idle curiosity. He’s still shaken. Still trying to fit what happened into a framework that makes sense.
“I don’t,” I admit.
His brows knit together. “You don’t… recognize it?”
“No.” The word comes out heavier than I expect. I drop my hands, pacing a short line across the room before turning back to him. “I’ve been on this continent a long time. I know what belongs here. I know whatwandershere. That creature didn’t feel like either.”
“What did it feel like?” he asks quietly.
