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"So are you." I sink down onto a flat rock nearby, trying to ignore how my body still tingles from his touch.
"I just killed something and then fucked you against a tree." He glances at me, one eyebrow raised. "Forgive me if I'm processing."
His bluntness makes me snort despite myself. That's something I've always... appreciated about him. He doesn't dress things up. Doesn't pretend.
Which is why I know better than to imagine he wants anything more from me.
I watch as he removes his shirt completely, scrubbing away the blood on him. Water droplets catch in the dark hair that trails down his abdomen, and I force myself to look away. His wings flex behind him, graceful and powerful, the silver flecks catching moonlight.
"Can't have Millie seeing me like this," he says, voice softer now. "She'd have nightmares."
The mention of our daughter tightens my chest. "She would. She's sensitive to scary things." I pause. "She gets that from you, I think."
Araton looks up, surprise flashing across his features. "From me?"
I shrug, uncomfortable with having revealed the observation. "She feels things deeply. Like you do." Though he tries to hide it beneath charm and swagger.
He doesn't respond, just continues methodically cleaning the blood from his skin. I turn my attention to the stream, watching how it parts around stones and fallen branches, always finding a way forward.
I'm afraid I'm getting attached to him.
The thought ambushes me, unwelcome but undeniable. These past weeks with him in our lives—seeing him with Millie, watching how completely he adores her, how he looks at me sometimes when he thinks I'm not paying attention—it's doing something dangerous to the walls I've built.
But I know better, don't I? Men like Araton don't settle. They don't want prickly shopkeepers with trust issues. They want adventure and conquest. And what happens when he grows bored? When the thrill of the new family wears off?
It would destroy Millie if he left. It would destroy me too, if I let myself care too much.
And yet... the way he looked at me tonight. The desperate edge to his voice when he spoke of the years I kept from him. Like I'd taken something precious.
"We should head back," he says, jarring me from my thoughts. "Harmony will be wondering what's taking so long." He shakes water from his arms and wings, droplets scattering like tiny diamonds in the moonlight.
I nod, rising to my feet. My body feels heavy with exhaustion and unspoken words.
As we walk back toward my home, I steal glances at his profile. His jaw is set in that stubborn line I've come to recognize, but there's something vulnerable in the set of his shoulders. He seems lost in thought, and I wonder what calculations are running behind those clever golden eyes.
Does he regret what just happened between us? Is he planning his next move, or his eventual departure?
The lights of my home come into view through the trees, warm and beckoning. Inside is our daughter, our strange little family that isn't really a family at all. Just three people connected by blood and circumstance, navigating uncharted territory.
I want him. Not just his body, not just what he can give Millie. I want his laughter, his stories, his steady presence beside me. I want to fall asleep to the sound of his breathing and wake to his face.
The realization is terrifying.
Because I don't believe for a second that he wants the same.
I shove that thought down as we step through my door just as Millie barrels around the corner, her curls flying wild behind her, silver-tinged downy wings fluttering in agitation. Her face is blotchy and wet with tears.
"Mama!" she cries, launching herself at my legs with such force I nearly stumble.
I scoop her up immediately, my heart twisting at the way she buries her face in my neck, tiny body shaking with sobs. "Hey, hey, sweet girl," I murmur, pressing my lips to her forehead. "I'm right here."
"We heard a—a monster scream!" Millie hiccups against my collarbone. "And you were gone too long and—and Uncle Ady said not to worry but I was scared!"
Her wings flutter against my arms, soft and warm. I meet Harmony's eyes over Millie's head. She's standing by the hearth, her gentle face lined with concern. Behind her, Brooke and Adellum hover awkwardly near the kitchen doorway.
"I'm fine, see?" I pull back just enough to let Millie examine my face. "Your Papa protected me."
Her golden eyes—so like Araton's it sometimes steals my breath—shift to her father. "You fought a monster?"