Chapter 17
Jessa drifted in the half-space between sleep and waking, unwilling to open her eyes and let reality intrude on this perfect cocoon of warmth and contentment.
A heartbeat pulsed beneath her ear, slow and steady. Strong arms encircled her waist, one hand splayed across her stomach with unconscious possessiveness. Hot breath stirred the hair at the crown of her head in rhythmic waves.
Tarek.
Memory flooded back—the storm, the stories, the way he’d finally stopped running. The way he’d touched her. The way he’d held her all through the night like she was something precious, something worth protecting.
She smiled against his chest and let herself enjoy the moment.
His skin was impossibly warm, almost feverish by human standards, but she’d grown accustomed to the elevated temperature of Vultor physiology. What had once seemed strange now felt like a luxury—like sleeping beside a banked fire, the kind that kept burning steadily throughout the coldest nights.
She shifted slightly, nestling closer, and felt his arms tighten in response. Still asleep, by the sound of his breathing, but even unconscious his body knew she was there and wanted to keep her close.
I could get used to this.
The thought should have frightened her. It should have triggered all her carefully honed survival instincts, the ones that warned against depending on anyone and letting herself become vulnerable.
She’d spent the last three years building walls, protecting herself and Dani from the disappointments and betrayals that came with trusting the wrong people.
But lying here in Tarek’s arms, those walls felt very far away.
A soft sound reached her ears—a whispered giggle quickly stifled. She opened her eyes.
Dani stood in the doorway, one hand pressed over her mouth, her blue eyes enormous with barely contained delight. She was practically vibrating with excitement, bouncing on her toes like she might explode if she had to stay silent for one more second.
Their gazes met.
Dani’s grin widened impossibly. She pointed at Tarek, then at Jessa, then made an exaggerated heart shape with her hands before dissolving into silent giggles and scampering away down the corridor.
Oh no.
Heat flooded her cheeks. She extracted herself from Tarek’s embrace as carefully as possible—no small feat when his arms seemed determined to keep her in place—and slipped out of the narrow bed.
Behind her, Tarek made a low, displeased sound in his sleep. One hand reached towards the space she’d vacated, his fingers curling around empty air before relaxing back onto the blankets.
Later, she promised him silently. Let me handle this first.
She found Dani in the main room, perched on a cushion by the fire with an expression of supreme satisfaction.
“Don’t say a word,” Jessa warned.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face is saying plenty.”
Dani’s grin somehow grew even wider. “I was just surprised, that’s all. I woke up and you weren’t in bed with me, and I got worried, so I went looking, and then I found you, and—”
“Dani.”
“—you looked so happy, Jessa. Both of you. Like you belonged there.”
The words cut through her embarrassment, leaving something raw and tender in their wake. She crossed to her sister and knelt beside her, taking Dani’s small hands in her own.
“I was going to explain—”
“You don’t have to explain.” Dani’s eyes were suddenly serious, far too old for her ten years. “I’m not a baby. I know what it means when two people like each other.”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“Is it?”
Yes, she wanted to say. It’s terrifyingly complicated. He’s an exile. He won’t tell me what he’s running from. We’re temporary guests in his home, and any day now we’ll have to face reality again.
But looking into her sister’s hopeful face, she couldn’t bring herself to voice any of it.
“Maybe,” she admitted instead. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be.”
Dani squeezed her hands. “Good. Because I have a proposal.”
“A proposal?”
“I’ve been thinking about it all morning. Well, for the last few minutes, but I’ve been thinking very hard.” Dani sat up straighter, clearly marshaling her arguments. “I want my own room.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I want the little room. I want to sleep there.”
“Dani, that room is barely bigger than a closet—”
“I like small spaces. They’re cozy. And I want a place that’s just mine, with my own things arranged the way I want them.” She fixed Jessa with a knowing look. “And you and Tarek should have the big bedroom. Together.”
“That’s not… We can’t just—”
“Why not?”
A dozen objections crowded her tongue. It was too fast. It was too presumptuous. It wasn’t their home to rearrange.
“Tarek might not want—”
“What might I not want?”
His voice came from behind her, rough with sleep but undercut with amusement. She spun to find him leaning against the corridor wall, his arms crossed, watching them with those green eyes that seemed to see entirely too much.
“Dani thinks we should… That I should…” She trailed off helplessly. “She wants to switch rooms.”
“I heard.” He pushed off the wall and approached, his bare feet silent on the stone floor.
He was wearing only loose trousers, his broad chest on full display, and she had to force herself not to stare at the way the firelight played across his muscles.
“The small room for her. The large one for us.”
Us.
The word hung in the air, heavy with implication.
She gave him a look that was half plea, half panic. Help me here. Object. Say something sensible.
Instead, he grinned.
It transformed his face entirely—softening the harsh lines, lighting his eyes with warmth, revealing the flash of those prominent canines in a way that should have been threatening but wasn’t. Not anymore.
“An excellent plan,” he said. “I will help you move your things after breakfast.”
Dani crowed with triumph.
“Wait—” she began.
“The large bed is more comfortable,” he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “And there’s more room for… various activities.”
The heat in his gaze made it perfectly clear what activities he meant.
Her blush returned with a vengeance. “That’s not—you don’t have to—”
“I want to.” He said it simply, without any of the hesitation or conflict that had marked their previous encounters. “If you do.”
Dani made a strangled sound that might have been a suppressed squeal.
She looked between them—her sister practically glowing with satisfaction while Tarek watched her with steady green eyes and something that might have been hope lurking beneath his usual gruffness.
What am I doing? This is reckless. This is foolish.
This is exactly what I want.
“Okay,” she heard herself say. “Okay. We’ll switch rooms.”
Dani launched herself off the cushion and threw her arms around Jessa’s waist. “This is going to be wonderful. This is going to be the best. We’re going to be so happy here, I just know it.”
Over her sister’s head, she met Tarek’s eyes.
Here. As if it were permanent. As if they belonged.
His expression softened into something almost tender, and she felt the last of her resistance crumble.
Breakfast was a cheerful affair—leftover honey cakes warmed by the fire, tea brewed strong and sweet, easy conversation that flowed around the table like they’d been doing this for years instead of days.
Afterwards, Dani directed the room switch with the organizational fervor of a general commanding troops. She supervised the movement of blankets and furs, the rearrangement of small belongings, the precise placement of her growing collection of carved animals on a shelf Tarek promised to build.
By mid-morning, she’d claimed her small domain and immediately closed the door, declaring she needed “private decorating time.”
“What have we created?” she murmured, staring at the closed door.
“A monster,” he agreed. “But a happy one.”
She laughed despite herself. The sound felt strange in her throat—too light, too carefree for everything that had happened. But it felt good, so unexpectedly good.
“The storm has cleared,” he said. “The berry bushes along the eastern slope should be ready for harvest. Their juice is good for dyeing so it would add to your color options.”
“Berries for dye?” She turned to him with interest. “What colors?”
“Deep purple from the mountain berries. Red from the ones near the stream. I’ve seen your threads—they’re beautiful, but limited. This would expand your options for the trader.”
He was thinking about her work and planning for her future. Warmth filled her as she smiled at him.
“Show me?”
The path to the berry bushes wound through woods still damp from the previous day’s storm. Water dripped from leaves overhead, catching the sunlight in scattered diamonds. The air smelled of wet earth and growing things, fresh and clean in a way the valley never quite managed.
He walked ahead, his steps sure on the uneven terrain, occasionally glancing back to make sure she was keeping up. The mountain didn’t seem to slow him at all—he moved up and down slopes as if he were part of the landscape, as natural here as the trees and stones.
She found herself watching him more than watching where she was going. The way his shoulders moved beneath his shirt. The grace of his stride. The dark hair pulled back from his face, revealing the strong line of his jaw.
Mine, something whispered deep inside her. He’s mine.
The thought should have triggered old warnings about dependence and vulnerability. Instead, it just felt true.
“You’re staring.”
She jumped. He’d stopped and turned, catching her in the act.
“I’m observing,” she corrected primly. “There’s a difference.”
“Is there?”
“Staring implies rudeness. Observation is scientific inquiry.”
His lips twitched. “And what does your scientific inquiry reveal?”
That you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. That I want to trace every line of your body with my fingers and my mouth. That I’ve never felt this way about anyone and it terrifies me almost as much as it exhilarates me.