Page 66 of Unravelled
Ren closed the space between them, moving through the water with a quiet urgency.
He reached her, his arms slipping around her waist beneath the surface, drawing her against his chest. Mira let herself fall into the embrace, into the warmth of him.
His hand cradled her, his body molding to hers like it had always known how.
“Mira,” he began, voice rough at the edges.
His thumb moved along her spine, a small, rhythmic motion as if the words needed coaxing. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”
Her brow furrowed slightly, a question ghosting across her features, but Ren continued, his voice a low, steady.
“For the memories you lost because of me. For the choices I made. I really thought I was protecting you.” His voice caught, and he swallowed, the motion sharp and visible, as if every word scraped against something raw inside him. "I was wrong.”
The admission seemed to pull something from him, a weight he had carried too long. His shoulders dropped, and for a moment, he simply looked at her, his gaze a quiet, open plea.
The candlelight cast soft shadows across his face, etching the vulnerability into every line, every curve. Mira let the silence stretch between them, the gentle slosh of water a soft undertone that filled the space with a rhythmic calm. She reached up, her fingers feeling the warmth of his cheek.
“I know.” Her voice was soft, but each word settled with purpose, solid and unyielding.
Her thumb brushed against his jaw, feeling the faint tremor beneath his skin, the unspoken fragility he rarely showed. A shiver ran through him, a barely there motion, and his eyes closed. The weight of her acceptance sinking into him like a stone finding its place at the bottom of a still pond.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” he whispered, the words rough and broken. “I just want you, Mira.”
The air between them seemed to hum, charged with the gravity of his confession. The water cradled them, warm and still, a sanctuary.
“Every single part of you,” he murmured. “I want your your mind, your heart, every scar, every guarded corner. " He pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder. His fingers slid into her hair, slow, reverent.
"I want your strength, your softness, your rage, your silence. I want the way you move, the way you dream, the way you doubt. There’s not a single part of you I don’t want to know, to hold, to fight for. ”
His forehead pressed to hers, his voice lowering, raw and trembling. “I want to stand beside you. In every storm. In every battle. I want you to look at me and know I’m yours, because you chose me. Because I choose you.”
Mira closed her eyes. The warmth of Ren’s words lingered on her skin, but underneath, a thread pulled taut through her chest. Mira felt the pull of him, the ache, the beauty of it, a promise wrapped in longing, in forgiveness and in devotion.
Tharion’s face flickered in her mind, Solid.
Steady. His presence had been a shield. A constant.
Their bond forged in quiet loyalty and shaped by hardship, not fire.
What she and Tharion had was different than this. It was duty.
Her chest tightened. Grief and guilt pricked at the edges of this moment like a cold wind slipping through warm water. She wanted to hold it all at once, who she had chosen, and who she had not yet let go.
"I..." The word caught in her throat.
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them.
The only sound was the slow ripple of water and the faint crackle from the hearth.
Ren’s fingers brushed gently along her jaw.
His eyes searched hers, not for proof, not for permission, but for truth.
Then he nodded, just once before a genuine smile filled his face.
“You don’t have to say anything, Mira,” he said, voice thick but sure. “Just being with you is enough for me.” His forehead touched hers again. It felt like devotion. Adoration. Love. “I’ll wait,” he murmured. “However long it takes.”
Mira let herself breathe into the quiet between them. Ren lingered there with her, their foreheads pressed together, breath shared in the hush. His arms tightened around her, not with urgency, but with care. And then, slowly, deliberately, he shifted.
“Come on,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.
The water lapped gently around them as he moved keeping one arm secure around her waist. Mira let herself be guided, her limbs loose, pliant from heat and emotion.
He helped her step from the bath, the cool air kissing her damp skin.
Ren reached for a thick towel first, wrapping it around her shoulders before grabbing one for himself.
He dried her slowly, his hands moving with patient gentleness.
Sweeping over her arms, down her back, across the lines of her shoulders.
Mira watched him in the low light, his hair black with water, his skin glistening beneath the soft sheen of hearth light.
Once she was dry, he paused, and toweled off quickly.
When he met her eyes again, there was no pressure, only a warmth that settled deep. They walked back into the main chamber, bare feet soft against the stone. Ren pulled back the covers of the bed and climbed in first, his arm outstretched in silent invitation.
Mira slipped in beside him, nestling into the space that had been waiting for her.
He pulled her close without a word, her head resting back against his chest, their legs tangling beneath the blankets.
His heartbeat thudded steady beneath her cheek.
One of his hands moved lazily through her hair, fingers trailing.
The scent of him surrounded her, wood-smoke and warmth, like the memory of a fire long after it had burned low. It clung to her skin, to the sheets, to the air between them, grounding her more deeply than anything else could have.
Mira breathed him in, the scent wrapping around her like a blanket, settling into the hollow places where worry used to live. It was steady. Familiar. Him. Ren shifted just slightly, his hold tightening for a heartbeat before relaxing again, as if even in sleep, he didn’t want to let her go.
And wrapped in the scent of wood-smoke, cradled by the quiet strength of his embrace, Mira finally let herself drift into sleep.