Page 84 of Daddy's Muse
“Do you want to hear a story?” I asked quietly.
He didn’t unlatch, but he gave me a faint nod as his eyes flicked up to mine, trusting me to understand what he left unspoken.
“Once upon a time, there was a little bunny,” I began, keeping my voice quiet and even, a rhythm he could drift inside of. “He wandered through the dark forest all alone, day after day, just trying to find a warm home for the winter. He was small,smaller than all the other creatures, with speckled fur that no other animal in the forest had ever seen before.”
His eyelids dipped lower, the story pulling him further down, the bottle slipping lower as he finished the last of it.
“The other creatures were jealous of his many little spots, but instead of admitting that, they were mean to the little bunny. No one would share their den with him. And so the little bunny journeyed far, stopping at each cave or hole or crevice he found, only to be chased away by its occupants.”
I massaged his ears with my fingers before carding them through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp.
“The temperatures dropped, and snow began to fall. The little bunny was shivering from the cold, his feet exhausted and hurting, but he refused to give up. He kept trudging forward, determined to find somewhere safe and warm to rest, when at last, he came upon a very cozy-looking burrow. Although he was sure he would be chased out yet again, the little bunny hopped in. Once he was inside, he could tell that this den would be a wonderful place to stay. But as he wandered a little further in, he jumped in fright. A huge white wolf lay curled up on the ground, its head resting comfortably on its front paws, watching the bunny explore its burrow. The little bunny froze, heart pounding. He braced himself to be swallowed up by sharp teeth. He shut his eyes tight as the big wolf crawled towards him. But instead of being eaten, the bunny was shocked as the wolf lay beside him, sharing his warmth and his home.”
By the time I pulled the empty bottle away, his breathing was slow and steady, his lips parted in a soft sigh.
I settled deeper into the mattress with him curled against me, and continued stroking his hair, pleased when sleep claimed him completely.
His cheek lay against my chest, still hot with the remnants of his earlier tears.
I eased the bottle onto the nightstand and shifted just enough to tuck the blanket over us both. His stuffed raccoon had fallen from his arm, so I guided it back into place, letting his fingers curl around it again.
The smallest things—his quiet sighs, the twitches of his nose, the soft rise and fall of his chest—burned into me with a weight I couldn’t explain. Every inch of him was fragile, precious, and mine.
I bent to press a kiss into his hair. “Good boy,” I whispered, softer than breath itself.
He stirred faintly, a sleepy noise catching in his throat, but didn’t wake. His body stayed pliant, trusting, tucked against me like he belonged there—which he did.
I let my palm rest over his back, just above where his heart beat. The steady rhythm was enough to quiet the storm still raging in my head from earlier.
My thumb brushed lazy circles against his back as I whispered into the dark, words only for him, though he was too deep in sleep to hear.
“You’ll never be alone again, kanin. Not while I breathe, not while I exist. I’ll burn the entire world before I ever let it touch you.”
I swallowed hard, pulling him closer still, pressing kiss after kiss to his temple.
He whimpered faintly in his sleep, but it wasn’t the sharp, broken sound from before. This one was softer, more content.
I closed my eyes and let myself breathe with him.
He had me chained just as surely as I had him. And I wouldn’t break free—didn’t want to.
Without him, there was nothing left of me worth saving.
* * *
Colby’s breath came soft and wispy, little puffs of air that tickled against my skin, and I lay there still as stone, terrified to break the spell.
I’d watched him slip under last night, watched his lashes flutter closed as though the world had finally grown too heavy for him to carry. And gods, it had felt like victory and defeat all at once—the relief of holding him safe, and the ache of knowing I had been the one to cause him pain.
My hand lingered in his pretty red hair. His body was curled tight into me, knees tucked up, one fist knotted in the fabric of my shirt. He clung to me in his sleep, even after yesterday. That should’ve been enough to silence the gnawing in my chest, but it wasn’t.
He shifted slightly, a sleepy murmur caught in his throat, and I bent my head to kiss the top of his hair. “Shh, sweetheart,” I whispered, even though he hadn’t stirred awake. “Pappa’s here.”
I couldn’t help it—I memorized him like this. The way the faint morning glow softened his features, the small crease still etched between his brows, even in rest. He carried his pain with him into his dreams, and it made me want to break the whole world open, just to lay peace at his feet.
But instead I lay there, unmoving, breathing with him, heart counting each inhale and exhale like proof he was still mine.
Eventually, he blinked awake slowly, the fog of sleep still heavy over him. His gaze landed on me, and he gave me something so sweet—a faint, soft smile, like waking to me was safety.
