Page 122 of Veil of Dust

Just her.

And I’ve never been more sure of anything.

There’s no blood between us now. No tension hanging.

My fingers curl against my thighs, not out of tension, but out of wanting to hold still. To stay in this moment. No need for a weapon. No reason to run.

We’re free.

She steps closer. The fabric against her skin whispers with each move. She doesn’t rush. She never has. Her presence reaches me before her hands do.

“Trust me?” she asks.

The question is soft. Not dramatic. Just a real thing she wants to know.

I nod. Slow. Sure. “Always.”

And I mean it.

Not just tonight. Always.

She lifts a length of silk. Light gray. Almost the same color as her eyes in the dark.

She starts to bind my wrists—not tight, not fast. Her fingers move like she’s done this before. Like she knows the pace I’ll breathe to. Like she’s not tying me up—she’s grounding me.

Each knot is careful. Thoughtful. Not about control. About connection.

The silk slides over my skin, cool at first, then warmer the longer she touches it. My pulse shifts, not fast, not nervous—just alive.

She doesn’t look away. Her eyes stay on mine. Steady. Focused. Not just watching—but seeing.

And I let her.

My breathing changes. Just a little. Deeper. Slower.

Not because I’m uncertain. But because I’ve never felt this open before. Not like this.

She finishes the last knot. It holds without biting. Firm, but not harsh.

Her hands pause at my wrists. One thumb brushes the inside gently, where the pulse beats closest to the surface.

She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to.

I hold still, not because I have to, but because I want to. There’s no fight in me. No resistance. Just this.

Just her.

The silk isn’t a chain. It’s a choice. And I’ve already made it.

She shifts, stepping between my knees. Her hands rest on my shoulders, her fingers steady, not pressing. Just there.

I close my eyes for a moment. Let the contact settle. Let her breath mix with mine.

The window’s cracked open behind me. A breeze moves through the room—cool against my back, clean, quiet. The outside world still exists, but it feels far away now.

It can stay that way.

We’ve earned this.

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