Page 56 of Drown Me Gently

And all Ulric could think was: Don’t push. Don’t ruin this. Don’t be greedy.

Not when Auren had just come back to life.

Not when he was here, laughing at Ulric’s side, walking through a world he never thought he’d get to touch.

Ulric curled his fists at his sides and breathed through the ache. He didn’t know how much time he had. But he would not spend it chasing pleasure at the expense of Auren’s peace. Not now. Not ever.

Still, every time Auren leaned into him, brushing their shoulders, grinning at some new delight, wide-eyed and radiant, Ulric’s restraint burned a little more.

And gods help him… he didn’t want to stop burning.

They went into town together, Auren beside him, walking freely on legs that had once been tail. Ulric kept a half-step behind him at first, watching. Ready, in case the crowds overwhelmed him. But Auren surprised him again.

He didn’t shrink back. He leaned in.

The scents were the first to hit—roasted nuts, grilled meat, something sugary and fried, thick with spice. The whole world smelled like indulgence. Rich oils and fresh bread, flower garlands drying in the sun, tobacco from the pipes of lounging old men who tipped their hats in Ulric’s direction with vague familiarity.

The colors dazzled next. Canopies stretched between wooden beams, bright fruit piled high in woven baskets, painted signs swinging in the breeze. Children darted past, laughing, shrieking. Someone played a fiddle near the bakery. Auren’s mouth parted, his eyes wide and tracking every detail.

And then⁠—

“Ulric!” Auren shouted so suddenly that Ulric’s hand was halfway to his belt when Auren tugged at his tunic in frantic excitement. “Ulric, look! Look over there! Do you see it? Do you think we can get closer?”

It was a horse.

A broad-chested bay with a thick black mane and white-blazed nose came striding past them at the edge of a small paddock.

Ulric smiled. “Would you like me to introduce you?”

Auren nodded too quickly, excitement buzzing like someone meeting a beloved celebrity. Ulric couldn’t suppress a chuckle.

He’s so damned cute.

“Wait here.”

Ulric approached the rider, spoke briefly, and passed him a coin. The man dismounted and handed over the reins. When he returned, Auren was in full-blown jitters.

“His name is Casco,” Ulric said, holding the reins. “His owner says he’s gentle. We have the pleasure of his company for a few minutes.”

Auren stared in awe. “He’s beautiful.”

Ulric watched as Auren stepped close, one hand out. Casco snorted, nudged his palm, and Auren laughed—a delighted, wind-chime sound. He ran his hand over the horse’s muzzle.

“It’s softer than I expected,” Auren said in wonder.

“Would you like to ride him?”

“Can I?”

“Of course,” Ulric said. Auren hesitated for a moment before nodding sheepishly.

Ulric didn’t give him the reins—he wasn’t suicidal—but he helped Auren into the saddle, hands firm at his waist. Auren was warm beneath his hands, soft in places, but still lean and strong. When he was seated, Ulric led Casco in slow circles around the paddock.

Auren spoke to the horse as if it were an old friend.

“You’re so strong. Do you know that?” he whispered. “Your eyes are like glass. You understand everything, don’t you? I bet you and Iska would be friends.”

Ulric watched, his chest aching with feelings both sharp and sweet.