Page 72 of Donovan

We followed Jonas through the village, past wooden cabins and woven lanterns that bathed everything in warm, flickering light.

The air smelled of roasting meat, fresh bread, and something spiced that made my stomach ache with hunger. It had been too long since I'd had a real meal.

Declan and I took a spot near the fire. The shifters welcomed us easily, passing food and ale, their conversation easy and familiar.

I let it wash over me, not needing to contribute, just existing in it.

Declan didn’t eat, of course, but he sat beside me, close enough that his knee brushed mine, and he looked relaxed. Almost at peace.

It was such a rare thing to see him like this.

His sharp edges, the constant wariness in his eyes, softened in the glow of firelight. He wasn’t tense, wasn’t scanning the dark for threats. He was here. With me.

And that was enough.

After dinner, Jonas stood, brushing his hands together. “You’ll need a place to sleep.”

He nodded toward a nearby cabin, set a little apart from the others but close enough that we wouldn’t be isolated. “It’s yours. For as long as you need it.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded. “Thanks.”

The inside of the cabin was simple but comfortable. A sturdy bed, a fireplace, a small table. It smelled of wood and something herbal, like dried lavender tucked into the corners.

Declan and I took turns in the shower.

I let the hot water run over me longer than I probably should have, scrubbing away dried blood, dirt, and the tension still lingering in my muscles.

By the time I stepped out, toweling my hair dry, Declan was already sitting on the edge of the bed.

I climbed into bed, sighing as I sank into the mattress. It was soft. Not a creaky motel bed, not the hard ground of the forest. Just comfortable.

I reached out, found Declan’s hand, and laced my fingers through his.

He didn’t pull away.

Didn’t say anything.

Just squeezed back, firm and steady.

The fire crackled softly in the hearth. The sounds of the village, laughter and quiet voices, faded into the background. For the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself close my eyes.

And with Declan’s hand in mine, I slept like the dead.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

DECLAN/ DONOVAN

DECLAN

The evening sky stretched above us in a canvas of deep indigo and burnt orange. Lanterns flickered around the training yard.

The scent of pine and earth hung heavy in the cool air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of sweat and steel.

I shifted my stance, gripping the wooden training sword loosely in my hand as Lena circled me, her eyes sharp and calculating.

Six months ago, she would have charged in blindly, all force and no finesse.

But now? She was patient. Learning. I could see the way she measured my movements, waiting for an opening. Good.