Seven #2
A low sound escapes Maelor’s chest. The rumble vibrates through me, through my lips, my bones. The sensation sends a shiver racing down my spine.
When the kiss deepens, it happens naturally. Gradually. Like neither of us can quite bear to stop. His free hand settles at my waist, not pulling me closer, simply holding me there. Giving me every opportunity to move away.
The choice remains mine.
The fact that he continues offering it—even now—makes my chest ache.
I close the distance myself.
The moment I do, something shifts. Not the bond but us. The restraint that’s existed between us since the forest begins to crack.
Emotion floods through the kiss.
Relief.
Wonder.
Affection.
Desire.
Beneath it all sits something far deeper.
Gratitude.
Because suddenly I understand that neither of us is kissing a stranger. We’re kissing the person who found us, the person who stayed, the person who chose us. The thought steals what little composure I have left.
When we finally pull apart, neither of us gets very far. My forehead rests against his, and his breath mingles with mine.
For a long moment, all we do is look at each other. The intensity in his eyes is enough to make my pulse stumble. He looks so damn happy, as though centuries of loneliness have finally come to an end.
And God help me, that might be the most devastating thing of all.
The certainty settles over me with surprising calm.
It’s not the frantic rush that followed his blood nor the overwhelming pull of the bond.
It’s quieter. Stronger. A decision that’s somehow been forming since the moment I found a wounded monster beneath a falling tree and discovered he was more concerned about my safety than his own.
Without breaking eye contact, I reach for the fastening of my shirt. The movement immediately captures his attention. Heat flashes through his expression before being replaced by something far more dangerous.
Restraint.
Honestly, the male deserves a medal.
A laugh slips free before I can stop it.
His brow furrows slightly. “What amuses you?”
I shake my head, still smiling. “Nothing. I’m just realising I’ve somehow fallen for the most considerate monster in existence.”
Something soft flickers across his face. The look nearly undoes me.
Slowly, I work the fastening loose and shrug the garment from my shoulders. The mountain air brushes against newly exposed skin, cool enough to raise goose bumps, though I’m not entirely convinced the temperature is responsible. Next to me, Maelor goes very still. Not frozen. Not shocked.
Looking.
Actually looking.
The intensity of it should make me self-conscious. Instead, I position myself a little taller beneath his gaze. Hospitals cure most people of modesty eventually, but this feels different from changing in a locker room or slipping into scrubs between shifts. This isn’t practical.
This is being seen.
The awareness settles heavily between us.
Slowly, I close the distance separating us. The breath that leaves him is rough enough that I hear it. A smile tugs at my mouth as I say, “Your turn,” while encouraging him to stand.
For a heartbeat, Maelor simply stares at me as though making absolutely certain I’ve spoken those words.
Then his hands move to the remaining layers covering his torso.
The process is slower than it should be, though I quickly realise that’s because his attention keeps drifting back to me.
Every few seconds, his gaze lifts, checking.
Watching. Making certain I’m comfortable.
The ridiculous male is still worried about me.
Warmth blooms through my chest.
By the time the final layer falls away, I’ve completely forgotten what I was about to say.
Maelor notices immediately, the corner of his mouth twitching.
He really is an arsehole.
“Do not stop on my account,” he says.
My jaw drops while his expression remains suspiciously innocent. “You made a joke.”
“I did.”
“I don’t know how I feel about this.”
The faint amusement in his eyes deepens. This cements that the terrifying shadow monster really has developed a sense of humour, and it’s proving unexpectedly dangerous.
Then I look at him properly. Really look. And every coherent thought promptly abandons ship.
It’s not simply his size, though that’s certainly part of the equation.
Broad shoulders. Powerful muscle. Silver markings winding across dark skin that seems to absorb and reflect the light all at once.
The scars scattered across his body catch my attention more than anything else.
Old wounds. Old battles. Pieces of a life lived long before he found me.
A life he’d carried alone.
The thought squeezes unexpectedly at my heart as this male spent years believing he was somehow lacking. Unwanted. Forgotten.
The idea feels absurd.
My gaze lifts back to his. “You’re beautiful.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
For a moment, Maelor simply stares. Then all traces of humour vanish. The vulnerability that flashes across his face is so brief most people would miss it. I don’t.
His throat works. “You think so?”
The question lands harder than it should as he’s not fishing for reassurance. He genuinely doesn’t know.
My chest aches. Slowly, I step closer until barely any space remains between us. One hand settles against his chest, feeling the steady beat beneath skin and muscle and centuries of loneliness. “Maelor,” I say softly, looking up at him. “I think half the problem is that nobody’s ever told you.”
The emotion that crosses his face is enough to steal the breath from my lungs.
For several seconds, neither of us speaks. Neither of us needs to.
The waterfall continues rushing somewhere behind us. The wind drifts through the valley below. The world carries on exactly as it always has. Yet standing there, with his gaze fixed on mine and my hand resting over his heart, it feels as though everything has narrowed to a single point.
Just him.
Just me.
And the certainty that neither of us wants to be anywhere else.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. The distance between us has disappeared so gradually that I can’t pinpoint exactly when it happened. One minute we’d been sitting side by side overlooking the valley. The next, we’re standing close enough that every breath feels shared.
My hand remains pressed against his chest. Beneath my palm, his heartbeat is steady.
Strong.
Real.
The simple fact still amazes me.
Two days ago, I was working a shift in Brisbane. Now I’m standing on a mountain in another world, staring up at an ancient shadow monster whose heart is beating faster every time I touch him.
Life is weird.
The thought makes me smile.
Immediately, Maelor’s gaze catches on it. His attention always seems to find me.
The awareness sends warmth spiralling through my chest.
Slowly, I let my fingers wander across the broad expanse of his chest, tracing one of the silver markings winding across dark skin. The line glimmers faintly beneath my touch, not quite glowing, but responding somehow. The effect is subtle enough that I almost think I’ve imagined it.
Almost.
His breath catches, and I lift my gaze to his. The wonder in his expression waiting there nearly steals my composure. It’s as though he can’t quite believe this is happening. As though he still expects to wake up and discover I’ve vanished.
The thought squeezes painfully at my chest.
Without meaning to, I step closer until my bare skin brushes his. The contact tears a groan from both of us, and then the world abruptly tilts. An undignified squeal escapes before I can stop it as Maelor lifts me effortlessly from the ground.
I cling to him automatically, laughter bubbling up despite the intensity of the moment. It doesn’t last long. Not when one of his large hands settles against my hip and then lower, holding me securely against him.
The position leaves us impossibly close. Close enough that every breath feels shared, every heartbeat amplified. Heat coils low in my stomach as awareness rushes through me, and suddenly it’s becoming very difficult to remember why I’d intended to take things slowly in the first place.
It’s hard to think when all it will take is an inch to his left and he can bury his fingers deep inside me. I still haven’t seen the size of his cock, thanks to his coverings, but I know, just fucking know, he’s going to destroy me in the best way.
“I need you. Want to see you.”
He nods and holds me steady as he unclasps something metal. I hear material fall to the floor and only just stop myself from jumping out of his arms in my impatience.
“Will you lie down so I can see you?” I’m practically panting with the request, but between the need thrumming through me and the desire burning in his eyes, I don’t care.
For a moment, Maelor simply watches me. Then that slow, devastating smile appears. The one that somehow manages to look both ancient and boyishly pleased at the same time.
Without a word, he lowers himself onto the soft sand-like ground.
My breath catches. He really is beautiful.
The silver markings winding across his skin seem brighter now, tracing the powerful lines of a body shaped by years of survival. Scars cross his shoulders and chest, old stories written into skin that has weathered battles, loneliness, and an entire lifetime before I ever existed.
My gaze follows one particularly faint mark disappearing across his side.
“Another story?”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “There are many.”
“I’m starting to notice.”
Something soft flickers across his face as I continue looking. Really looking.
No one should be this beautiful. Not a creature capable of stepping through shadows. Not a male who can make entire villages fear him. Yet somehow the contradictions only make him more compelling.
Power and gentleness.
Strength and patience.
A predator who handles me like something precious.