Page 34 of His To Unravel
“What’s this?” she murmurs, eyes lifting to meet mine, a flicker of nervous excitement dancing in their depths.
“A token,” I say quietly, pushing the box closer. “To mark where we are…. And where I hope we’re heading.”
She lifts the lid, her breath catching as she takes in what’s inside.
A solitaire diamond pendant, custom-designed for her—1.5 carats, carefully bezel-set in yellow gold. Understated, classic, yet distinctive. I know she’s not one for ostentatious displays, but this—thissuits her perfectly.
On the back, concealed from view, I’ve had my initials, NC, engraved in a discreet monogram. It’s a detail that only she’ll see, like a whispered promise pressed against her skin.
Her fingers trace the pendant carefully, the facets of the diamond twinkling in the candlelight. I wonder if she’ll sense the intention beneath it all—that I want her marked, tethered to me in ways she doesn’t yet fully comprehend.
She looks up, and there’s a hint of something hesitant in her expression. “Nate, it’s beautiful, but…I don’t know if I can accept it. It’s…a lot.”
I lean in, holding her gaze. “It is a lot. Because you matter to me–a lot. I wanted you to have something that reflects that,” I murmur, voice low, intimate. “This is a reminder that wherever you go, that’s where I want to be.”
She shifts, clearly affected, her fingers brushing the edge of the box as if still uncertain. I take her hand, feeling its warmth beneath my palm, squeezing gently.
The corner of her mouth lifts and she gives a small nod. Herfingers hover over the pendant, her touch drifting over the smooth back where my initials are etched, hidden but ever-present.
She doesn’t yet understand the full meaning behind it. That it’s more than a symbol of affection.
It’s a tether.
Standing, I gently lift the pendant from her hand. “Allow me,” I say, moving behind her. I fasten the chain around her neck, taking a moment to let my fingers trail along her skin.
She touches the pendant, then lifts her gaze to mine. “Thank you,” she says softly.
When I return to my seat, I relish the sight of my necklace resting perfectly against her collarbone.
I admire the diamond for what it is: a beacon that will relay her location at all times, a way to keep her safe. I feel an indescribable satisfaction settle within me, a reassurance that she will never be lost to me.
“It’s perfect,” I murmur, unable to hide the delight in my voice. “Promise me you won’t take it off.”
She nods, her fingers flitting over the diamond. “I promise,” she says, and I feel the satisfaction seep into my bones.
After dinner,I lead her along a discreet path behind the restaurant to the private garden I reserved. The narrow stone pathway is lined with blooming lavender, the air thick with its calming scent. Garden lanterns flicker softly along the edges, casting warm light that dances across her features.
The end of the path opens into a secluded alcove—an intentional pocket of intimacy, enclosed by manicured hedges and a canopy of leaves that filter the starlight overhead. The hum of the city fades to a distant murmur, replaced by a serenity that wraps around us like a cocoon.
With a hand at the small of her back, I guide her deeper into the alcove until we reach a cast iron bench nestled beneath the trees. Its back is a tangle of sculpted flowers—iron blooms woven into elegant, curling vines.
I gesture for her to sit and slide in closely beside her, my thigh brushing hers. The dim lantern light casts a soft glow on her flushed cheeks, and I can see the anticipation in her eyes—a want that mirrors my own.
Without a word, I lean in and graze my lips lightly against hers, reveling in how warm and pliant they are beneath mine.
It’s a slow, consuming kiss—each touch, each gentle press, weighted with everything I’ve felt since I first saw her.
Her breath hitches. She leans into me, her fingers catching the collar of my jacket—tentative yet trusting. I take everything she gives, savoring the way her tongue meets mine in a timid caress. She tastes like the red wine we enjoyed with dinner—and just as intoxicating.
The moment stretches, her pulse thrumming under my touch, our breaths mingling in the cool night air.
I pull back just enough to study her face—the slight tremor of her lips, the way her gaze searches mine, as if piecing together the depth of my intent.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?” I ask, voice low and rough.
She looks at me, a flicker of surprise mingling with desire, and I feel a rush of satisfaction, knowing I’m the one who brings this out in her.
The tension builds—a silent, shared understanding passing between us.
