15. Artemis #3
He sighed. “He didn’t allow me to leave the clan borders. He considered the human world corrupting and dangerous.”
“And you obeyed him?”
“For my whole life,” he said. “Yes.”
“And now?”
“The last year has been a rebellion of sorts,” he said calmly. “I’ve been traveling, interacting with humans more. Using phones, learning to drive, and so on.”
I smiled. “You are a menace.”
He glanced at me. “I enjoy it.”
That made me absurdly happy.
I didn’t even try to hide it. I grinned so hard that my cheeks ached.
“If I could choose a profession,” he murmured, “I think it would be making you smile like that as often as possible.”
We held each other’s gaze a second too long. Something tightened low in my chest. I looked away first, not trusting what might happen if I didn’t.
“I was never the kind of masculine my father valued,” he added. “I was too studious and not forceful enough. He preferred certainty without curiosity.”
I reached for a piece near his hand. Our fingers touched and stayed there a beat too long.
“I like your version,” I said. “It feels safer.”
His gaze held mine. It was intense and uncomfortable in the best way.
We went back to the puzzle. Shoulders touching now. Knees pressed. No one commented on it.
The picture started to take shape, and order emerged as sky met land.
My adrenaline finally began to ebb.
“I think I’m ready for bed now,” I said quietly.
He nodded. “Good.”
We didn’t finish the puzzle.
Nothing happened.
Everything did.
“I should take the couch,” I said, already clocking how aggressively narrow it was.
“You’ll take the bed,” Arthur said.
“I don’t have to,” I said. “We can flip a coin. Or rotate. Or do some kind of medieval watch schedule.”
He looked at the couch, then the bed, then at me. “You’ll sleep on the bed.”
“That’s not one of the options I presented.”
“It’s the correct one.”
I crossed my arms. “You need sleep too.”
“I do.”
“So why am I getting the bed?”
“Because you’re human,” he said calmly. “You have a longer recovery time.”
“That feels rude.”
He shrugged. “It’s factual.”
I stared at him, but he looked completely unbothered.
“I can handle uncomfortable,” I said. “I’m very adaptable.”
“I know, but I want you to be comfortable.”
He walked me to the small bedroom like it was a formal event. I had the sudden impulse to curtsy like a fucking weirdo but managed to restrain myself.
He stepped toward the bed and pulled down the covers, then fluffed the pillows with the same care he seemed to apply to everything else.
“Goodnight,” I said.
“Goodnight,” he replied.
Both of us kept standing there. Nothing happened. No dramatic moment. No sudden impulse. Just the quiet awareness of him in the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame, filling it so completely the room felt smaller, and me at the side of the bed.
“I’m going to take a quick shower,” he said eventually. “You should sleep.”
“I can do that.” I climbed into the bed, pulled the quilt up, and was asleep almost instantly.
I woke to a loud crack of thunder that sounded like the sky was tearing apart directly above my head. The cabin shook. The walls creaked. Rain hammered the roof so hard, for a second I thought we were under attack.
My heart kicked into my throat before my brain could catch up.
I lay there, rigid, listening, counting the seconds between thunderclaps, and trying to convince myself that this was fine. That I was safe. That I had willingly chosen to sleep in a wooden cabin in the middle of Iceland during a storm.
It didn’t work.
Another thunderclap hit, closer this time, and the rational part of me lost ground.
“Arthur,” I called, hating the way my voice gave me away. “Arthur?”
The door opened, and he was suddenly in the room, hair damp, shirtless, eyes filled with concern.
“I’m here,” he said.
“I know this is irrational,” I said quickly. “And I’m not asking you to fix it. I just—” I stopped, pressed my lips together, then tried again. “Would you maybe be willing to sleep in the bed with me? You absolutely don’t have to. I can also just… deal with it. I’ve dealt with worse. I—”
He crossed the room and pulled the covers back. “May I?” he asked, already halfway in.
“Yes,” I said, relief rushing through me so fast it was dizzying.
He climbed into the bed and turned on his side, giving me space. I stared at the ceiling, suddenly very aware of everything again.
“Can I hold you?” he asked quietly.
I nodded before I remembered I was supposed to be maintaining some semblance of distance. He slid an arm under my shoulders and pulled me in. I shifted instinctively, settling my cheek against his bare chest.
The warmth emanation from him was the perfect counterpoint to the swirling uncertainty and newness around us. I was surprised at how quickly my body relaxed. Muscles unclenched. Thoughts slowed. The noise inside me softened until it was barely there at all.
This was regulation. Complete and total regulation.
Arthur’s other hand rested lightly at my back.
The storm raged outside, but it didn’t touch me.
I had never been this comfortable in my life. I breathed once, deeply, and let myself stay.