Page 41 of The Minotaur's Little Peach
"I've been so scared," she admits, her free hand coming up to wipe at her cheeks. "After losing him, I told myself it was safer to keep everyone at arm's length. That caring about people only led to pain."
"It does lead to pain," I agree, because there's no point in lying about something we've both experienced firsthand. "But it also leads to moments like this. To mornings where you wake up excited about the day ahead instead of just trying to survive it."
She nods slowly, her thumb stroking across my knuckles in a rhythm that matches the steady beating of my heart.
"I realize how limited time is," she says finally, her voice gaining strength with each word. "How quickly everything can change, how precious every moment really is. I don't want to hold back anymore, Dae. I don't want to waste whatever time we have being afraid."
The relief that floods through me is so intense it's almost painful. I'd prepared myself for her to ask for more time, more space, more careful navigation of the complicated emotions tangled between us. But here she is, choosing to step forward instead of back, choosing us despite the risk.
"Love doesn't replace what was lost," she continues, her eyes finding mine and holding steady. "It grows alongside it, shapes itself into something strong enough to hold us both."
I bring our joined hands up to my lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles while I try to find words adequate for what she's just given me. Permission to love her without guilt. Permission to build something new without tearing down what came before.
"I love you," I tell her simply, because sometimes the most important truths are also the simplest ones. "Not as areplacement for what you had with Korrun, but as something entirely our own."
Her smile this time is radiant, bright enough to chase away every shadow in the room.
"I love you too," she whispers back, and the words settle into my chest like coming home after years at sea.
23
SOREYA
The words hang between us like a bridge I've finally decided to cross. I love you too. Three simple words that feel like stepping off a cliff and learning to fly at the same time.
Daegan's sea-glass eyes search my face, probably looking for any hint that I might bolt again. The memory of our last kiss—how I panicked and ran—sits heavy between us. I can see the caution in his expression, the way he's holding himself back despite everything we've just shared.
He starts to lean in, his massive frame moving with that careful grace he always shows around me, like I'm something precious that might break. But then he stops, just inches away, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin and catch the scent of sea salt that always clings to him.
"If you're planning to run away again," he says quietly, his voice rough with want and wariness, "tell me now. Because I won't be able to handle kissing you and then watching you disappear."
The teasing note in his voice doesn't quite hide the vulnerability underneath. He's giving me an out, protecting both of us from the possibility of me retreating into myself again. ButI don't want an out anymore. I don't want the careful distance I've been maintaining or the walls I've built to keep myself safe.
Instead of answering with words, I reach up and grab the front of his shirt, my fingers curling into the rough fabric as I pull him down to me. His eyes widen slightly at my boldness, but then I'm pressing my lips to his and nothing else matters.
This kiss is different from our first one by the fire. That one was tentative, questioning, full of uncertainty about what we were doing and whether it was right. This one is an answer, a declaration, a promise that I'm done running from what's growing between us.
Daegan makes a low sound against my mouth, something between surprise and relief, before his arms come around me and lift me clean off the bed. I should probably be startled by how effortlessly he moves me, but instead I feel safe, cherished, like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.
"My room," he murmurs against my lips, his voice a rumble I feel more than hear. "We can still hear Taran, but..."
"Privacy," I finish, understanding immediately. We need to be close enough to respond if our baby needs us, but far enough away to have this moment for ourselves.
He carries me down the short hallway with sure steps, never breaking our kiss except to navigate around the doorframe. His room is smaller than mine, simpler, with just his sea chest and the narrow bed he's been sleeping in for months now. But it feels intimate in a way that makes my heart race.
When he lays me down on his bed, the mattress dips under our combined weight. He braces himself above me, those powerful arms caging me in without making me feel trapped. His chipped horn catches the lamplight filtering in from the hallway, and I reach up to trace the broken edge with gentle fingers.
"Does it hurt?" I ask softly.
"Not anymore," he says, his eyes never leaving mine. "Not when you touch it like that."
He kisses me deeper then, his mouth moving against mine with a hunger that sends heat racing through my veins. I can taste the want on his lips, feel it in the careful way his hands frame my face like I'm something sacred.
But I don't want careful anymore. I've spent months being fragile, letting grief make me brittle and afraid. Tonight I want to remember what it feels like to be alive, to be desired, to desire in return.
"Closer," I whisper against his mouth, my hands fisting in his shirt. "I want you closer."
He pulls back just enough to search my eyes, probably making sure I mean what I'm saying. Whatever he sees there must convince him, because his expression shifts from careful restraint to something far more intense.
