He exhales through his nose, the faintest ghost of amusement crossing his face. Then he shifts—just a little—moving closer. The side of his leg brushes mine, and the contact sends a warm shiver up my spine.
“You’re fearless,” he says.
“I am not.”
“No,” he corrects, “you are. You fear many things. Injury. Loss. Disappointing those you love. The unknown. But not me.”
My heart stutters. “Why would I be afraid of you?” I whisper.
“I’m not…” He hesitates. “Gentle.”
“You were gentle with me.”
“Yes,” he says, voice roughening. “Because you’re mine to protect.”
The words hit like a physical touch—hot, firm, claimed-but-not-possessive. My breath catches. “Yours?”
He freezes, eyes widening slightly as if he just realized what he said.
I don’t let him take it back. “I don’t mind that,” I murmur.
There’s silence for a beat before he says, “You should.”
“I don’t.”
He swallows again, gaze dropping briefly to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “You complicate everything,” he rasps.
“I’m delightful,” I argue softly.
“Thatis the complication.”
I grin, warmth flooding me from chest to fingertips.
Night settles around us properly now—deep blues shading into black, fire crackling bright in the clearing. Boone’s profile is a silhouette of strength and quiet conflict.
I reach out and touch his hand. It’s light, a little tentative considering the passion of our shared kiss earlier. “You can change, shift back.”
He goes utterly still.
“Boone,” I say, “shift and come lie down with me.”
A frown pulls at his features. “I can lie down with you, but not in my natural form.” Before I can ask why, he continues, “For the first time, it’s better like this. I’m so much stronger in my cryptid form. I need you to be safe.”
The argument is right there on my tongue, but I hold it back. Concern and unwavering resolve all but pulses off him. This isn’tthe time I should push. It wouldn’t be fair or right, forcing him into something.
I settle on: “I understand.”
With a nod, he stretches out beside me on the blanket I laid near the fire. I shift closer until my head is resting against his shoulder. His arm slides beneath me, then around me, cradling me against the long line of his body.
I melt instantly, feeling his warmth and his strength. I also feel next-level safe in his arms.
Sweet summer blooms, he feels good.
His breathing rumbles through his chest against my cheek. His scent of cedar and musk is dizzying. This is the part I didn’t know I craved until now: Boone holding me. Not in passion. Not in danger. Justholding mebecause he wants to.
“You’re trembling,” he murmurs.
“Happy trembling,” I clarify.
