Page 90 of Map of Pain
He trusts us,his beast whispered.
“This is nice,”Nick murmured, his voice soft.“I didn’t know it could feel okay to take up space.”
Luka pressed his lips against the back of Nick’s neck in silent agreement. Nick shivered at the contact, but didn’t pull away.
Slowly, Nick turned over in Luka’s arms until theywereface to face. His eyeswerestill bright with unshed tears, but underneathwas a tentative hope that made Luka’s stomach feel like it was floating around his torso.
“Can I kiss you?”Nick asked.
Luka’s answerwasto lean forward and capture Nick’s lips with his own, gentle and unhurried. The kisswasdifferent from their previous desperate moments—itwasexploratory, tender, a conversation conducted in touches and sighs.
Nick’s hand found Luka’s cheek, fingers tracing the line of his jaw as their mouths moved together. When Luka’s tongue traced the seam of Nick’s lips, Nick opened for him with a soft sound that made Luka’s head feel like it was buzzing.
They kissed like theyhadall the time in the world, learning the taste and texture of each other. Nick’s mouthwaswarm and sweet, and when he made small sounds of pleasure, hunger stirred in Luka’s depths.
Want him.Take him.Make him ours completely.
Luka firmly told those instincts to be quiet. Thiswasn’tabout taking—thiswasabout Nick learning that intimacy could be safe, that he could be touched without being consumed. Every kiss, every gentle touch,wasNick reclaiming something thathadbeen stolen from him. Luka would be damned if he let his own desires complicate that process.
Nick pulled back slightly, breathing hard, his pupils dilated in the dim light.“Is this okay? Am I doing this right?”
“Perfect,“Luka mouthed, then leaned in to press soft kisses along Nick’s jaw.
“Stay?”Nick whispered against Luka’s throat.
Luka nodded, settling and letting Nick adjust his position until he found the right balance of contact and space. Within minutes, Nick’s breathing deepened into the rhythm of true sleep.
He lay awake watching him, cataloging the way Nick’s face smoothed out in sleep, how his hand stayed relaxed instead of clenched, how his body remained open and trusting instead of defensive.
The sight filled him with a fierce tenderness that went bone-deep. Thiswaswhat Nick looked like when he felt safe—peaceful, unguarded, taking up space without apology. Itwasa gift Lukanever expected to receive, and onehe’dtreasure for the rest of his existence.
Nickhadgivenhim the most precious gift imaginable: the chance to see him, all of him, and trusting him to handle that sight with care. Luka would spend the rest of his existence proving worthy of that trust.
Chapter thirty-five
Pancakes are art form...
Nick
Nick stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror of Marcus’s penthouse, adjusting his collar for the third time. The shirt Luka brought him was soft blue cotton, nothing fancy, but it fit and didn’t have any bloodstains or holes.Small victories.
His hands shook, which felt ridiculous in the grand scope of things.He faceddown Society operatives, survived two years in a box, living through horrors that would break most people, but the thought of sitting at a dinner table with Luka’s family made his stomach churn with nerves.
The last timehe was in a room with all of them,he’dbeen catatonic on the club floor, lost somewhere in his own fractured memories while they watched. How the hell was he supposed to be normal?
What if he said the wrong thing? What if someone made a sudden movement and he reached for a weaponthatwasn’tthere? What if the submissive voice in his head took over and he ended up on his knees apologizing for existing?
“Stop,”he whispered to his reflection. The hunterwasstill quiet these days, the submissive even quieter. Most of the time now, itwasjust Nick. Just him, trying to figure out who thatwas.
A soft knock on the bathroom door made him jump. Three gentle taps, then a pause, then two more—their signal for“everything okay?”
Nick opened the door to find Luka leaning against the frame, and did a double-take.“Your beard. It’s gone.”
Luka’s hand flew self-consciously to his now-clean-shaven jaw, revealing the strong line of his chin and—Nick noticed with surprise—a constellation of freckles across his cheeks. He looked younger, more vulnerable somehow. His throat scarwasfully visible now, the raised tissue stark against his pale skin.
“You look...”Nick started, then stopped, suddenly shy.“You look really good.”
A flush of pink crept across Luka’s cheeks, highlighting those freckles even more. He ducked his head with a small smile, pleased but embarrassed.
