Page 53 of Mystic's Sunrise

And I did.

I found her curled up in bed, the light beside her casting a warm glow over her face. She blinked sleepily, shifting as I walked in, her eyes tracking me like she’d been waiting.

"Did the meeting go well?" she asked, her voice soft, still carrying the weight of earlier.

"As well as it could," I muttered, toeing off my boots. My body was wound tight, my mind still restless. She studied me for a beat, then lifted the blanket just slightly, an unspoken offer.

I froze. Not because I didn’t want to. Because I did.

There was nothing in her expression but quiet understanding, something unspoken passing between us. Just comfort. Just trust. Nothing sexual.

I exhaled slowly and lay down on the other side of the bed, on top of the covers, keeping space between us but feeling the warmth of her near me. She let out a small breath, her body relaxing just a little more, and I felt something inside me settle, too.

Neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to. The room was wrapped in low light and the steady rhythm of our breathing. Still, something hung between us. A question. A tether. A heartbeat.

I felt her shift slightly, felt the whisper of fabric brushing the bed between us. Then, in a voice so quiet it was almost part of the air, she spoke. "Ben seni bulmak için dogdum."

The words slipped from her lips in soft Turkish, carried by something too deep to hold back.

I didn’t understand the meaning. But the way she said it—the way her voice cracked just slightly around the edges—hit something deep in my chest.

I turned my head toward her, but her eyes were already closed, her breathing slowing into sleep.

Whatever she'd said...it mattered.

I lay there staring at the ceiling, her words replaying in my head over and over. Burning holes into places I didn’t know were still alive.

For the first time in too many years to count, sleep didn’t feel so damn far away. But when it came, it came with the sound of her voice wrapped around my fucking dark soul.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

I WOKE SLOWLY, the world wrapped in quiet.

The air in the room was still, carrying the faint scent of his cologne. My mind stirred before my body did, thoughts drifting in a hazy, sleepy fog before settling on one thing. Him.

I shifted slightly, feeling his steady warmth beside me. He was still there.

For a moment, I didn’t move. I barely breathed. It was such a small thing—waking up next to someone—but for the first time it wasn’t Drago.

I had spent years waking in fear, my body tense before my mind even caught up. Always having to act, to put on a showfor Drago. Every word, every smile, glance, it had to be perfect, convincing. But here... now...

I was calm.

Safe.

I turned my head slowly, my eyes adjusting to the morning light. Mystic lay on his back, one arm resting over his stomach, the other near me but not touching. His breathing was deep, steady. The hard lines of his face were softer in sleep, the tension that usually sat between his brows smoothed away.

He looked... peaceful.

I wasn’t sure I had ever seen him like this before.

I studied the scars that ran along the side of his face, the way they pulled slightly at his features. He pretended he didn’t care about them, but I wasn’t sure that was true. He carried them like a weight, something unspoken but always present.

My fingers twitched, an urge rising inside me to reach out, to trace the jagged lines, to tell him that they only made him more handsome to me. But I didn’t. I wasn’t his girlfriend. It wasn’t my place.

Or maybe... it was becoming my place.

I swallowed, my heart tightening at my insecurities that had beaten at me earlier. What if this was nothing to him? What if he just didn’t know how to pull away?

---