He stills slightly under me.
“I love you.”
The words hang between us for a second, heavier than anything else we’ve said to each other so far.
His hands tighten at my waist. “I know what love is,” he says slowly.
My stomach flips. That… is not the response I was expecting. But before I can spiral into that, he continues.
“In my language,” he says, “there is a word for it. It does not translate directly.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” I mutter.
That gets another low rumble from him. “It is ‘Laereth’,” he says.
The word rests between us, unfamiliar and heavy, like it carries more weight than just sound.
“What does it mean?” I ask.
His gaze doesn’t leave mine. “It is not only feeling,” he says. “It is recognition. Choice… bond. It is the understanding that another life has become… integral to your own.”
My chest constricts with a wave of emotion.
“It means,” he continues, quieter now, “that your existence changes the shape of mine. Permanently.”
Yeah. That hits hard. I let out a slow breath, my forehead dropping briefly to his, the contact grounding in a way I didn’t realise I needed. “Okay,” I murmur. “That works too.”
His hand slides up my back, fingers running over my dreadlocks before settling at the nape of my neck, holding me there. “You are my Laereth,” he says.
Fuck.
That—
Yeah.
That does things.
I huff a quiet laugh that’s more breath than sound, then shift again, pressing closer, letting my weight settle more fully against him. “Good,” I say, voice softer now. “Because you’re mine too.”
The kiss that follows isn’t rushed. It’s not desperate. It’s… deliberate and slow. A quiet exploration of something that doesn’t need to prove itself anymore.
His mouth moves against mine with a familiarity that still surprises me, the heat of him steady, the connection between us no longer sharp and overwhelming but deep and constant, like it’s settled into something that just is.
I breathe him in.
Feel him.
The bond hums, not frantic, not strained, just… there.
Right.
I shift slightly, sliding my hands from his shoulders to his chest, tracing over him as I pull back just enough to look athim again. “We’ve got about five minutes before reality kicks our arses,” I murmur.
“Yes. My heat is not active so my knot will not form.”
“Good to know.” A small grin tugs at my mouth despite everything. “I vote we make the most of it.”
Heat twinkles in his gaze, followed closely by unspoken agreement.
