Page 31 of Mane Squeeze
“Just enough to keep things interesting,” he panted, trying to shift back. It took effort, his lion reluctant to recede. But he managed.
He was shirtless again.
Naturally.
Sheraised her eyebrow in annoyance but tugged his arm over her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go home before someone knits us matching sweaters and starts picking wedding dates.”
He groaned. “Too late. I already saw the one with embroidered paws.”
As they limped toward the path back to the cottage, the bond pulsed again—less pain, more presence. Like it approved.
Like it knew.
14
LILLITH
The hearth had burned low by the time Lillith finished binding the last of Dominic’s wounds. Golden embers popped gently in the quiet, casting flickering shadows across the worn edges of her cottage’s living room. She didn’t speak, not because there wasn’t anything to say, but because the space between them was heavy enough with things she didn’t feel like acknowledging.
Dominic lay on the couch, eyes closed, shirt off, chest rising slow and steady. The scratches from the shadow-beast still glowed faintly with the pulse of old magic, stitched now with warded salve and bandages she’d spelled herself. Her fingers tingled from where they’d touched his skin—too warm, too alive.
She hated that he made her feel this way. That she kept finding herself caring in ways that had nothing to do with the bond, and everything to do with him.
She curled into the armchair beside the couch, not far, never far. The pull between them was constant—gentle tonight, like a thread made of breath. She could feel it humming through her spine. She let her head rest on the arm of the chair, legs tucked under her.
Just a short rest. Just until the tea cooled.
Sleep took her without permission.
When she woke, the fire had died to ash. Her neck ached. But it wasn’t the ache that caught her attention, it was the warmth in her palm.
Her fingers were intertwined with his. Her first instinct was to jerk away, but she didn’t.
His hand was large, calloused, his fingers curved slightly like they were used to holding something precious. Or someone. He didn’t stir. Just breathed in that quiet, steady way that meant he was dreaming deeply.
Lillith blinked slowly, then let her head fall back against the cushion. This was fine. This didn’t mean anything. They’d been through hell the last few days. It was just the bond, pulling them toward each other. Just… Her eyes fluttered closed again. And then she was no longer in her chair.
She stood in a garden she didn’t recognize. Twilight lingered over the trees, thick and golden, with stars blooming above her like wildflowers. The air was warm with jasmine and something older—something sacred.
Dominic stood across from her.
He wore a white shirt, unbuttoned and flapping in a breeze that didn’t touch the trees. His eyes were the same—golden, sharp—but softened at the edges with something unspoken.
She looked down realizing that she wasn’t in her pajamas anymore.
She wore a long dress, embroidered with ancient runes, the hem brushing soft moss. Her bare feet sunk into the ground like she belonged there.
“This isn’t real,” she whispered.
“Doesn’t mean it’s not happening,” he said, voice gentler than she expected.
She took a step toward him. The air between them shimmered. The bond tugged, but not with pain. With longing.
“You dream like this often?” she asked.
He smirked. “Only since you started showing up.”
“This isn’t my dream.”
