Page 37 of Mane Squeeze
She hadn’t. But she didn’t argue.
“I made tea,” he said after a pause.
She turned then, taking him in—barefoot, shirtless, his wound healing faster than it should thanks to whatever magic lingered in his blood. He looked… soft. Sleepy. Vulnerable in a way she hadn’t known he could be. And it made her all the more desperate to pull away.
“I’m busy,” she said, turning back to her desk.
A beat of silence. Then, “Right. Of course.”
He stepped back. Didn’t push. Didn’t ask. The restraint in that almost broke her.
When she finally heard him walk away, she pressed her fingers against the sigil on her skin. It burned.
Not physically. Not even magically.
Emotionally.
“Dammit,” she whispered, swallowing hard.
The tea he’d left on the table outside the door grew cold.
Later that afternoon, Lillith wandered the cottage like a ghost in her own home. Dominic had given her space—too much of it, really. He hadn’t flirted once. Hadn’t joked. Just existed nearby, quiet and careful, like a predator waiting for a sign.
And maybe that was worse because it meant he was hurting too.
She found him in the kitchen, trying to peel an orange with a butter knife. He looked up as she entered, mask sliding over his expression before she could read it.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Famished,” she lied.
He slid a plate toward her without comment—bread, cheese, apples. Simple. Thoughtful.
She sat across from him and said nothing for a while.
The silence between them stretched again. Comfortable in one breath. Agonizing in the next.
Finally, she looked up. “Why didn’t you ask what I was working on?”
Dominic’s jaw tensed. “Because I figured if you wanted me to know, you’d tell me.”
“I might be trying to break the bond.”
His eyes flicked to hers, unreadable for a beat. “Yeah. I figured.”
“You’re not mad?”
“No.” His voice was quiet. “Just disappointed.”
She swallowed, throat tight. “It’s not because of you.”
“It’s entirely because of me.”
“No,” she insisted, harsher than she meant to. “It’s because… I’ve seen what happens when people are forced into something they don’t want. I’ve lived it. I can’t be that person again.”
He leaned against the edge of the table, arms crossed, brow furrowed. “What do you mean, lived it? I thought you were from here.”
She gave a brittle laugh. “No one’s from here. Not really. Not the ones with magic thick in their blood and secrets stitched into their skin.”
