Chapter 6 Brannock
Brannock
“Fate?” I scoff. I’ve never put much stock in that fairy tale. I prefer to deal with reality—with what I can see, touch, and destroy all on my own.
She shrugs. “You landed here after leaving your prison. Maybe I’m trapped, and maybe you’re angry, and maybe this forest wants to eat us both, but…” Her voice grows quieter. “It doesn’t feel like a coincidence.”
My chest tightens. I’ve faced war, pain, magic that could rip your soul apart, and none of it made me feel as exposed as this woman looking at me like I’m worthy of something more than disdain and fear.
“Maybe,” I say gruffly. “But that doesn’t make me a good man.”
She holds my gaze. “Doesn’t make you a bad one, either.”
I scrub a hand through my damp hair. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of. Things I can’t take back.”
She doesn’t flinch. “So have I.”
I turn my head fully to look at her, brow raised. “What could you possibly have done? You’ve been locked in a tower your whole life.”
She lifts her chin, eyes sparkling with mock solemnity. “I once ate an entire cake by myself and blamed it on a squirrel.”
“A squirrel?”
“It was a very convincing lie. Dame Gothel believed me. I even put what looked like tiny squirrel droppings in the icing.” She grins. “Not real droppings, obviously.”
A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. Loud and sharp and real.
She smirks. “See? Not so innocent.”
She has no idea just how gods-damned innocent she is.
I shake my head, still chuckling. “You’re a dangerous woman.”
“Oh, absolutely.” She nudges my knee with hers. “A menace to society.”
I sober slightly, the amusement still lingering at the edges of my voice. “It doesn’t bother you? That I’ve killed?”
She’s quiet for a moment before saying softly, “It bothers me that you carry it like a weight you don’t think you’re allowed to set down.”
Her words hit me like a punch wrapped in velvet.
“I may have been locked in a tower, but I’m not completely oblivious,” she continues.
“Dame Gothel brings books and magazines sometimes. Or the latest copy of The Fable Forest Gazette if she’s feeling generous.
I know who won last year’s pie fair, all the gossip from Screaming Woods, and that Fable Forest’s mayor may or may not be dating a banshee. ”
“Is he?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
I shake my head, grinning again. Gods, she’s something else.
Her smile fades, and her eyes flick toward the stove. “Sometimes, I’m scared I’ve been forgotten. That the world keeps turning without me.”
The firelight catches the sadness in the purple-blue shimmer of her eyes, making my chest ache. She’s everything this place is not—alive, curious, kind. And for some reason I can’t understand, she sees something in me I never thought worth looking for.
I shift closer, not touching, but close enough that her lavender scent weaves around me like an intoxicating spell. “You haven’t been forgotten, Rapunzel.”
She swallows. “You don’t know that. Maybe the world never knew I existed at all.”
“I do.” I meet her gaze. “Because I found you.” She exists–real, warm, and bright. Gods, the world couldn’t forget her if it knew her. It’s simply not possible.
Her fingers twitch against the rug, like she’s fighting the urge to reach for me. Something flickers across her face. Hope? Disbelief? Fear? As if the only thing more terrifying than being alone is not being alone anymore.
We sit there in a silence that hums with unsaid things. A quiet ache unfurls in my gut, a longing I haven’t felt in years. Not only for her delectable body but for the closeness, the trust, the soft weight of being wanted.
I stare into the fire, afraid of what I’ll do if I keep looking at her.
Afraid of what I’ll do if I don’t.
Because I want to consume her. To be consumed. To lose myself in this strange, impossible girl who doesn’t flinch from monsters.
“I think the tower brought me here,” I say quietly. “Not to trap me. But to show me something worth fighting for.”
Her eyes meet mine, and the room grows quiet. The roots stop creaking. The tower seems to hold its breath.
My gut tells me I’m on the brink of something new. That I’m not only here to help her escape, but also to find a way out, a way forward, for both of us.
“I don’t know why your hair picked me,” I finally say. “But I’m not leaving you here.”
She sighs. “You may not have a choice.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to work on our escape plan. Together.”
She smiles at me—soft, uncertain, hopeful.
Her nightgown has slipped off one pale shoulder, begging for my touch. I don’t move. I barely breathe. But something in the air between us shifts again, pulling tight, drawing me closer.
Her fingers graze mine, and she traces the scars on my knuckles. “These hands have seen so much.”
My heart kicks hard in my chest. Her touch is soft and tentative, but it hits me like a warhammer to the sternum.
“Too much,” I murmur.
My throat aches as she lifts her gaze to mine, her eyes full of stars and hope that makes my throat ache. She’s close enough that I can see her lashes tremble, the way her lips part on a breathless question she doesn’t ask.
“I shouldn’t want this,” I rasp.
“I know,” she whispers. “But you do.”
Gods help me, I do.
Her face tilts up. She’s not innocent at this moment. She’s a woman reaching for something she’s never had and offering something I’m not sure I deserve.
Her breath hitches as I lean in slowly.
And then I kiss her.
Her lips are soft and warm and sweeter than anything I’ve ever tasted, like sugar and sunlight.
I keep it gentle at first. She deserves that.
But when she makes a tiny, helpless sound in the back of her throat, something primal in me breaks.
I cup the back of her head, pulling her closer, kissing her like I’ve earned it. Like I’ll never get another chance.
Her fingers clutch my shoulders, and she presses closer, her mouth parting for me, welcoming the thrust of my tongue. I drink her down like a man dying of thirst. And gods, it’s not enough.
Her tongue meets mine—tentative and soft—and I groan into her mouth like a man starved. She’s learning me with every stroke, every shy flick, and it drives me wild.
Gods, I want to bury myself in her. In her scent, her mouth, her skin. A woman I’ve known for a matter of hours.
Rapunzel trembles but doesn’t pull away. If anything, she leans in, deepening the kiss as if finally admitting she’s as ruined for me as I am for her.
My hand finds her waist, the heat of her skin searing my palm through the thin cotton of her nightgown. I want to rip it off, feast on her soft valleys and curves.
But not like this. Not yet.
I slow the kiss, gentling it even as my blood thrums with need. My palm cradles her jaw, thumb brushing the rise of her cheekbone.
When we finally break apart, she doesn’t move far, resting her forehead against mine, her breath shallow and uneven.
“Brannock,” she whispers, voice barely audible. “What are we doing?”
“Breaking every rule I’ve ever had,” I murmur.
She lets out a shaky laugh that sounds like it might fall apart into tears. “This is too fast. Isn’t it?”
“Maybe.” I brush a strand of hair from her face, trying to make sense of this. Of this place and this woman who’s unraveled me in the space of a few hours.
The kiss lingers like a brand between us as we sit in the flicker of firelight from the stove, wrapped in something fragile and new and impossible.
And when she eventually leans her head against my shoulder, curling into my side with a sigh that sounds like surrender, I feel peaceful in a way I never have.
Maybe it’s the fire settling, or the way her breathing tugs mine into the same slow rhythm, but the whole tower seems to unclench. The roots stop their restless twitching. I press my palm flat over her hip and make a quiet vow to keep this small, impossible peace intact for as long as I can.
Because I’ve finally found something worth staying for.