Page 27

RONNIE

M y knees don't quite work as I fumble with my dress, pulling it down over my hips. The cool night air raises goosebumps along my skin where it's still damp with sweat. My underclothes are destroyed beyond repair, so I leave them crumpled on the forest floor—a casualty of Araton's impatience.

The forest feels different now. Less dangerous but more complicated. My body still hums with aftershocks of pleasure, a deep satisfaction settling into my muscles, but my mind is a storm of conflicting emotions.

"Stream's this way," I murmur, not quite meeting his golden eyes. I can feel his gaze on me like a physical weight as he tucks his shirt back in and straightens his clothing.

The blood has dried on his forearms and chest in dark rivulets, looking almost black in the moonlight.

The reality of what happened crashes back—how close I'd come to being mauled, how Araton had appeared like some avenging deity from the shadows, his wings spread wide as he tore through the beast to protect me.

To protect me. The thought lodges in my chest like a splinter.

We walk through the trees in silence, following the gentle downward slope toward where the stream cuts through the forest floor. My body aches pleasantly, a reminder of how completely I'd surrendered to him. Again. Just like every time before.

But this time felt different. This wasn't our usual pattern of me pushing him away immediately after. He said things... things that sounded almost like he'd missed me. Like he'd wanted more than just my body.

I shake my head slightly. No. I can't afford those kinds of delusions.

The stream comes into view, water glinting silver in the moonlight. It's shallow but clear, running cold even in summer. Araton crouches at the edge, plunging his arms in without hesitation. The blood clouds around his skin before being swept away by the current.

"You're quiet," he says without looking up, his voice carefully neutral.

"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?"

Araton steps closer, his hand coming to rest on her small back between her nascent wings. "Just a thassir that got too curious," he says, his voice deliberately light. "Nothing your fierce mama and I couldn't handle together."

Something warm and dangerous unfurls in my chest at his words. Together. It sounds too right.

"I was brave," Millie declares, tears already subsiding. "I only cried a little bit."

"The bravest," I agree, pressing my nose against her soft cheek. She smells like honey and the herbs Harmony always has hanging in her kitchen. "But it's late, and little warriors need their sleep."

Millie's lower lip juts out. "I'm not sleepy."

Araton reaches for her, neatly extracting her from my arms. "Tell you what, sweetheart," he says, using the nickname he's given her. "Let me tuck you in with a story while your mama says goodnight to everyone."

Her protests die as she latches onto his neck, one tiny hand patting his face. "Tell me about the time you flew through the lightning storm," she demands, already transitioning from terror to excitement.

I watch them disappear down the hallway, Araton's broad shoulders and powerful wings making him look like some kind of guardian spirit carrying our child to safety. It does something to me, seeing them together, hearing his voice drop to that soft tone he only uses with her.

"Well," Harmony says, her eyebrows raised. "Looks like we missed quite the adventure."

I shake my head, running a hand through my tangled hair. "Just bad luck. Nothing serious."

"We should head home," Adellum says, adjusting his spectacles. "Glad you're both safe."

I walk them to the door, grateful for their help with Millie but eager for them to leave so I can decompress.

Too many emotions churn inside me—lingering arousal, fear from the thassir, confusion about Araton, and the constant, nagging anxiety that I'm letting myself get too comfortable with this arrangement.

Brooke follows Adellum out with a quick hug, already on to pestering her father with more questions. But Harmony lingers at the threshold, her hazel-green eyes searching my face. The small birthmark behind her ear peeks out from beneath her loosening headscarf.

"Araton was terrified," she says quietly. "When he came in to put Millie down. He was so panicked that you were going to get hurt."

I snort, crossing my arms over my chest. "He just helped me for Millie's sake."

Harmony shakes her head, a soft smile playing at her lips. "Ronnie, he practically flew out that door. I've never seen someone move so fast." She squeezes my forearm. "That man is in love with you."

The words hit like a physical blow. I step back, shaking my head. "No. He's here for Millie." I force the words out, needing to believe them. "That's all this is."

Harmony gives me that patient smile, the one she uses when I'm being particularly stubborn. "That might be what you think," she says, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "But you're wrong."

She slips out the door before I can argue, leaving me staring into the night, her words echoing in my head like a dangerous promise.