"Someone should take responsibility before it breaks free and tears through half the crowd." I turn back to the binding, adjusting the clasp he clearly noticed was faulty. "Unless you'd prefer waiting until then."
He laughs. Actually laughs, warm and genuine. "You always this bold with strangers?"
"Only when they're standing around watching instead of helping."
The memory shifts, time compressing.
Him approaching the seller after I've finished with the bindings. Negotiating for the beast—a young tharivex with containment issues. And then, almost casually, adding another clause to the contract. "The human who handled the bindings. I want her transferred to my estate as part of the acquisition. As a laborer, not a slave. She'll work with the beasts."
The seller's surprise. My own shock, barely concealed, because when he told me he was going to do that, I called his bluff. His eyes meeting mine across the space between us, something in them that looks like a question. Like he's asking if I want this.
I nod. Just once. And everything changes.
More memories, faster now, overlapping.
My first day at his estate. Him showing me the stables himself instead of delegating it. Explaining the containment systems with patience I didn't expect, answering every question without making me feel stupid for asking. His hand brushing mine when he hands me equipment, lingering just a fraction too long.
"You're better at this than half my trained staff."
"That's because your trained staff is terrified of them. I'm just smart enough to respect what they can do."
That smile again. The one that makes his entire face transform. "There's a difference."
More memories flash before me.
Weeks passing. Him finding excuses to be in the stables when I'm working. Our conversations getting longer, more personal. Him teaching me techniques that take years to master, hands guiding mine with careful attention. The way he laughs when I say something sharp or unexpected, like I'm the most entertaining thing in his world.
"You're distracting me."
"Good," I say, not looking up from the beast I'm examining. "You work too much."
"Says the woman who's here before dawn every morning."
"That's different. I like what I do."
"So do I." His voice drops lower, closer. "Especially recently."
And then one memory unfolds among the others.
The first time he kisses me. Late evening in the feeding pasture, just the two of us and Azhrael in the distance. We're arguing about something—handling techniques maybe, or whether a particular beast needs more space in its enclosure—and suddenly he's cupping my face and pulling me close and the argument dies completely.
When we break apart, we're both breathing hard. His thumb strokes across my bottom lip.
"I've wanted to do that for weeks."
"What took you so long?"
"Trying to be professional. Clearly I failed."
"Thank fuck for that."
Time blurs together as I'm lost in our past.
Him pulling me into empty corridors to steal kisses. Finding reasons to keep me late in the stables so we can talk. Bringing me meals when he notices I've skipped them. Letting me sleep in his quarters when I'm too exhausted to make it back to my own. His hands learning every part of my body. My fingers tracingthe scars on his skin. Learning each other with intensity that feels inevitable, like we were always heading here.
"I'm in love with you."
He says it first, whispered against my temple while we're tangled together in his bed, dawn light just starting to creep through the windows. Like he can't hold it in anymore.
