Page 63 of Aryn

A reluctant smile twitches on his lips, but it fades as he lets his gaze move over me. “You’re sure?”

This is a terrible idea.

“I’m sure,” I promise.

Aryn

I wake up warm. The ghost of Cato’s presence tingles on my skin, even though he isn’t currently curled up against me. I know that despite our best intentions to keep distance between us, we spent the night wrapped up in each other. There’s no other explanation for why my mark is purring happily along my tail.

Matters of the heart rarely listen to reason, after all.

I spent half the night awake, listening to him breathe behind me. Over and over, I reminded myself he doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want to be tied down and doesn’t know how to commit.

When someone tells you who they are, you listen, and Cato has made his stance painfully clear.

He’s not cruel. Gods know this might be easier to accept if he were.

Instead, he’s letting those hard edges drop around me, and seeing him soft is far more dangerous. My eyes drift to the ceiling as if I might peer up at the Fates and ask them why.

Why now? Why here?

Why him?

After a lifetime of solitude, I had accepted it as my fate. I’d made peace with the isolation. Then Cato came swaggering out of that van behind Bash, and I was instantly drawn to him. He was a flame, and I was no better than a moth swarming closer to the light. He’s hot enough to burn and unpredictable enough to spread, but I’ve seen enough wildfires to know what comes after.

Destruction. Devastation. A soft glow of embers that looks so lovely against the scorched earth until you realize those will burn out, too. The ground will cool and ash will float away in the wind like it was never there.

It’s inevitable.

Despite how I was drawn to him, I did everything right. I kept my distance and recited the old prayers that carried me through the worst of times. I poured myself into my studies and spent extra hours meditating.

I stayed away from temptation.

And now temptation sleeps beside me, behind the privacy of walls.

Finally, I gather my courage and roll over, but the bed is empty. I reach out, dragging my hand over the rumpled sheets like I might feel his presence there. Sounds filter in from the rest of the house—voices talking, water running, and the occasional heavy thump from outside. Dawn has barely broken, but the day is already in full swing.

The glow twinkles softly against the sheets, and I trace my fingertips over it like I need to convince myself it’s real. My tail wraps around my waist, the evidence of my dilemma hidden under my clothing as I step into the hallway and head for the bathroom. After I take care of morning business, I follow the sounds to the laundry area. Taryn and Cameron glance up from where they’re scrubbing the pile of filthy clothes we shed last night.

“Morning,” I say with a forced smile. Both of them greet me back cheerfully. It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep in an actual bed can do for people’s spirits.

“Thulga has breakfast in the kitchen,” Cameron says as he wrings out a shirt, wrinkling his nose at the dingy water left behind. “There’s even fresh milk.”

My stomach growls at the thought, but I force my manners to come first. “Do you need any help in here?”

“No, we’ve got this handled,” Taryn insists. “Ronan and Lillith went out with Grimhild to move some fallen trees from the fence line, and I think Cato is splitting wood.”

“Someone should’ve woken me,” I say with a frown.

Taryn waves me off. “You’re still recovering, and if you slept that long, you needed the rest. We’ve got it handled here. Go get some breakfast.”

The stone floor is cool against my bare feet after days of thick socks and boots. In the living room, Thulga sits in an armchair with a steaming mug in one hand. “Morning!” she says with a dip of her chin. “How’d you sleep?”

“Incredibly. This has been a much-needed reset for our group.”

“I imagine so,” she replies before taking a loud sip. “Would you like some vark? I’ve got plenty of milk to take the bite off.”

A nostalgic smile tugs at my lips as I recognize the bitter aroma. “I’d love some, but I’m happy to make my own.”