Chapter 18
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I woke to the scent of coffee and something sweet, pancakes, maybe.
For a moment, I simply breathed, cataloging my body’s condition before attempting to move.
The venom’s fire had subsided to a dull ache, centering around the six claw marks that crossed my torso.
They’d begun to heal, pink scar tissue already forming where yesterday there had been open wounds seeping toxic green fluid.
The blanket nest was empty beside me, Rozi’s warmth and scent lingering on the pillows. My wolf whined, missing her proximity. After I’d nearly died in her arms, being separated by even a few feet felt wrong.
I turned my head, finding her across the Fae dwelling, fully dressed and moving with precise efficiency around the small kitchen area.
She hadn’t noticed I was awake yet, and I took the moment to study her.
Even in simple hiking clothes, she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
The memory of her determination as she’d dragged me through the forest, her fierce refusal to let me die, her hands steady despite her fear, burned in my chest, a different kind of fire from the venom’s poison.
Mine, my wolf growled through our mental link, and for once, I didn’t argue.
She reached for something on a high shelf, her shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of mahogany skin at her lower back.
My mouth went dry. Even after nearly dying, my body responded to her with embarrassing immediacy.
My cock hardened against the blankets, the ache of desire somehow overriding the lingering pain of healing wounds.
When she’d held me in the healing pool, her body pressed against mine, her arms keeping me from slipping beneath the water…
I’d been in agony from the venom, but even then, I’d been acutely aware of her bare skin against mine, the perfect weight of her breasts against my back, her breath warm against my neck.
“I won’t let you die,” she’d growled, the words more animal than human. “You are mine. Mine.”
Those words had been my anchor when the venom tried to drag me into darkness. Those words had given me something to fight for when every cell in my body had screamed for surrender.
And last night, after the danger had passed, the way she’d looked at me in the firelight, fear and fury and something deeper she still wasn’t ready to name, had stolen my breath more effectively than any poison.
“I can’t lose you,” she’d whispered, as if the admission had been torn from somewhere deep and vulnerable. For years, I’d dreamed of hearing words like that from her lips. Now that I had, I was terrified of doing anything that might make her take them back.
The movement of sitting up caught her attention, her head snapping toward me with startling speed.
“Good. Finally, you’re awake.” Her tone was clinical, but I could smell the relief beneath the professional facade, could see the shadows under her eyes that told me she hadn’t slept, had stayed awake watching over me all night.
My wolf preened at the evidence of her care, while the man in me ached to cross the room and pull her into my arms. To thank her properly for saving my life. To show her with hands and mouth and body exactly what she meant to me.
But I knew better than to push.
“I didn’t die,” I replied, offering a half smile as I carefully stood, keeping the blanket wrapped around my waist. The room tilted for a moment before stabilizing, a reminder that despite my healing, I was far from recovered.
My wolf, usually so vibrant beneath my skin, felt subdued, present but quieter than normal, recuperating alongside my human consciousness.
She turned back to the stove, flipping a pancake with more force than necessary. “Yup, you didn’t die.” A tremor in her voice betrayed emotions she was fighting to control. “Coffee’s ready. Food in five minutes.”
I made my way to her, each step becoming steadier. When I reached her, I gently turned her to face me, noting how she avoided my eyes. Her scent had shifted, the chemical tang of fear giving way to something warmer, relief mixed with an emotion she was trying desperately to hide.
“Rozi.” Her name on my lips felt like a prayer, a confession, and a promise all at once. I tightened my fingers around hers, tracing patterns on her wrist with my thumb that made her skin visibly flush. “Thank you.”
She arched an eyebrow, keeping her voice deliberately light despite the thunder of her heart that my enhanced hearing could pick up.
“For what? Saving your stubborn, noble, self-sacrificing ass from certain death? Someone had to do it, and I was the only one around with the right medical training.” She flashed me a smile sharp enough to cut glass.
“Besides, if you’d died before I got those samples from the COL, I’d have to haul your corpse the rest of the way, and you’re not exactly a lightweight. ”
My laugh was unexpected, rich and warm, rumbling from deep in my chest. “You’re always practical.”
“Always,” she said, but we both heard what she didn’t say: I couldn’t lose you. Not again. Not ever.
She slapped my hand away, but not before I felt the dampness on her cheek. “You fucker, you almost died on me,” she said, voice breaking on the last words as she blinked rapidly, fighting tears.
Without hesitation, I pulled her against me, enveloping her smaller frame in a gentle embrace. She stiffened for just a moment before collapsing against my chest, her hands pressing against my bare skin.
“I’m here, baby. Don’t cry,” I murmured into her hair, breathing in her jasmine-and-vanilla scent now laced with exhaustion and lingering terror.
“You’re still a fucker,” she muttered against my chest, but her arms wound around my waist, holding me with surprising strength.
Her curves fit perfectly against me, softness meeting hardness in a way that made my wolf growl with approval. The thin fabric of her shirt did nothing to hide the peaks of her nipples hardening against my chest, her body responding to our proximity despite her emotional turmoil.
She felt it too; I could smell the sweet musk of her arousal mingling with the other complex emotions that surrounded her. Life and death, fear and relief, past and future, all collided in this moment between us, creating something elemental and raw that transcended simple desire.
When she pulled back just enough to look up at me, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears, it took every ounce of self-control not to claim her mouth with mine.
To show her with lips and tongue and teeth that I was alive, that we were both alive, that whatever time we had left belonged to each other.
Instead, I let her set the pace, let her decide how much or how little she wanted from me right now. I’d walked away without giving her a choice. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“I’ll be ready,” I promised, holding her gaze. “Whatever comes next, whatever we face at the COL today, I’ll be by your side. I won’t leave you again.”
My words were heavy with the weight of our shared history and the promise of what might still be possible.