15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

F ury

The fire burns low, casting the cabin in a warm, intimate glow. Tally dozes against my chest, her breaths slow and even, one hand fisted loosely in my shirt, burrowing beneath the collar to curl in my shoulder pelt. She looks younger like this, the lines of care and worry smoothed from her face. I want to trace the delicate curve of her jaw, but I don't dare risk waking her.

Shaddai grunts softly in his nest of blankets, little paws twitching as he dreams. The quiet domesticity of it all hits me like a gut punch. When was the last time I felt this kind of peace, this sense of belonging? In all the years and miles that lie between me and An'Wa, have I ever stopped running long enough to just… breathe?

Goddess, what is this woman doing to me? In the space of a few short days, she's worked her way under my skin, past all the walls and barricades I've spent decades constructing. She looks at me and sees not a monster, not a political pawn, but a male. Flawed and rough-hewn, but worthy of compassion. Of affection.

It's a dangerously addictive feeling. I want to wrap myself in it, let it fill in all the broken, aching spaces inside me. But I know better. This is borrowed time, a temporary respite from the reality that waits beyond these walls.

Because the truth is, no matter how much I may wish otherwise…Tally and I come from different worlds. And not just in the literal sense.

She's human. Bright and warm and so achingly breakable. She's young, optimistic, and has a career ahead of her. She belongs to the daylight, to a life of purpose and discovery and joyful connection.

And me? I'm a creature of shadow and sorrow, carved from the unforgiving wilds of a planet I'll never return to. I've got a fuckton of baggage trailing behind me like a comet's tail, and I refuse to drag her down into the muck with me.

She deserves better. Goddess, just look at her. She deserves everything .

But that doesn't stop me from wanting, with an intensity that borders on physical pain. I want to keep her like this, soft and sleep-rumpled in my arms. I want to wake to her smile every morning, want to stand by her side as she faces each new challenge with that clever mind and stubborn chin.

I want a lifetime of moments like this one, quiet and perfect and ours .

Tally stirs against me, a small sound of contentment escaping her throat as she curls closer. My arms tighten around her, as if I could hold back our inevitable parting through sheer force of will.

"Fury?" Her voice is thick with sleep, muffled against my chest. "What time is it?"

"Could be close to bedtime, if you want," I murmur, careful not to disrupt the hazy tranquility blanketing the room. "I can carry you to bed, or you can keep dozing on me. I like having you close. "

"Mmm. No, no, I'm awake." She pushes herself up, blinking owlishly in the half-light. There's a crease on her cheek from my shirt. Her sun-drenched brown hair is a tousled bird's nest and fuck if it isn't the most endearing thing I've seen in my entire life.

Her eyes find mine, crinkling at the corners as a slow, sweet smile spreads across her face. "Hi there."

"Hi yourself." Something in my chest cracks wide open at that smile, a keen blade of tenderness splitting me to the marrow. "Sleep well?"

"Like the dead. You're a surprisingly comfy pillow. Who knew?"

"Hey, I'm more than just a pretty face."

She laughs, bright and unguarded, and it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. "Damn right you are. But, oh, you are such a handsome devil."

My eyes narrow as I inspect her face for signs she's bullshitting me. Where other people's faces are creased with laugh lines, mine is creased with a roadmap of anger. And don't get me started on our age difference.

"Since you're more than that handsome face…" Her head tilts, gaze turning speculative. "I don't suppose you feel like sharing some more of those hidden depths? Since we're stuck here and all."

Ah. There it is. The question I've been dreading and anticipating in equal measure.

Part of me recoils instinctively, hackles rising at the thought of divulging more of my dark, fucked-up history. It goes against every survival instinct, every hard-earned lesson the world has beaten into me.

Never show weakness. Never give them ammunition to hurt you. Trust no one, because betrayal is the only sure thing in this miserable fucking life .

But another part, the part that's drawn helplessly to the steady, affectionate light in Tally's eyes, to the kindness and strength that seem to radiate from her very pores… that part wants to lay myself bare before her. To let her see me, all of me, and hope against hope that she won't flinch.

My jaw clenches as the two impulses war within me, the urge to hide grappling with the longing to be known. Tally must see something of the struggle on my face because her expression softens.

One small hand comes up to cradle my jaw, her thumb sweeping over the tension in my cheek. "Hey. You don't have to tell me anything if you're not ready. Or… ever."

A harsh bark of laughter escapes me before I can bite it back. "Trust me, woman, if I didn't want to talk, we wouldn't be talking. You couldn't push me if you tried."

She rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch into a half smile, acknowledging the truth of that statement. "Fair enough, Mr. Grumpypants. So… does that mean you're ready to talk? Because everything you tell me just makes me know you better… and like you more."

Am I ready? No. I don't think I'll ever be truly ready to revisit the nightmares that stalk the halls of my memory, hungry and waiting patiently to break me.

"I have an idea, Fury. I'll go first, give you a glimpse of my delicate underbelly. Then, if you want, you can show me yours. Or not."

And damned if she doesn't cock her head, give me a wink, and take a deep breath as she readies herself to draw me a roadmap to her vulnerabilities.