Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
Her fingers moved from my jaw to my hair, threading through the strands. Her nails gently dragged against my scalp. The way my mother used to do when I was small and couldn't sleep. The memory surfaced unbidden, and with it came a pressure behind my eyes that I hadn't felt in years.
No. Stop. You can't. . .
"You don't have to be strong right now, Kenji. Not with me. Never with me."
Do not cry. If you start, you won't be able to stop. . .
"Whatever happened down there. . ." She pressed a kiss to my forehead. Tender. Loving. "Whatever you had to do. . ."
Another kiss, this one to the bridge of my nose. "It doesn't change how I feel about you."
My throat closed.
My chest seized.
The pressure behind my eyes became something sharper.
Hotter.
Demanding release.
Dragons don't cry. Dragons don't break. Dragons. . .
"I've got you," she whispered, and her arms wrapped around me, pulling my head down to the curve of her neck. "Let go, Kenji. I've got you."
I can't. I can't. If I let go, I'll fall apart completely. And then what sort of man would I be for her. . .If I let go. . .
"You're safe here."
Safe.
When was the last time I'd felt safe in this way?
The very concept was foreign.
When was the last time anyone had held me like this—not because they wanted something, not because they feared me, but simply because they loved me?
My mother.
When I was a kid.
Before she became a ghost of herself.
Before the Fox hollowed her out and left nothing but an empty shell.
The pressure crested.
I buried my face in Nyomi's neck and breathed her in—black amber and ripe plum—and I let myself feel it.
All of it.
The horror of what I'd done.
The grief for people I'd once loved.
The guilt that no amount of justification could wash away.
The relief—God, the relief—that it was over.
That I was here.
That even though I’d killed innocent people to punish the snakes, at least someone on this planet still loved me.
My Tiger was warm, alive, and mine and I hadn't lost her to my father's snakes.
My arms tightened around her until I knew it must hurt, but she didn't complain.
Didn't pull away.
Just held me tighter in return.
"That's it." She breathed against my hair. "I'm here, and I'm not letting go."
A sound escaped me.
Not a sob.
Not quite.
Something between a breath and a groan—a release of pressure that had been building for hours. For years, maybe. Decades of walls cracking under the weight of a single woman's tenderness.
"You're okay." She moved her hands in slow circles across my back. “I love you, and you're okay."
The words washed over me like warm water.
Like absolution I hadn't asked for and didn't deserve.
"I love you, Kenji. All of you. Even the parts you think are too dark to love."
She can read me too well. I must stop this. . .no one on this Earth should know me. . .better than me. . .
And then I let one tear spill from my eyes.
One.
I wiped it away immediately.
She probably knew, but hopefully she hadn’t truly seen it.
“I love you.” She pressed her lips against my temple.
I closed my eyelids.
Another tear left.
Before I could wipe it away, she kissed it.
No.
I sneered.
Then, she kissed the other closed eye.
I shivered.
Then, she kissed the bridge of my nose.
And the corner of my mouth.
The trembling in my muscles slowly eased.
The pressure behind my eyes receded—not gone, but manageable now. Contained. The memories that had been clawing at the edges of my mind retreated to the shadows where they belonged.
Not erased.
Never erased.
But held at bay by the warmth of her body against mine. By the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath my ear. By her voice, soft and sure, repeating words I was only beginning to believe.
No more tears came, even though more wanted to fall.
My Tiger had seen enough for now.
Yet. . .she kept soothing me with her words as if trying to lure those tears out.
"I love you."
"I'm here."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"You're safe."
"I've got you."
Neither of us spoke after that.
We didn't need to.
Her fingers kept moving through my hair in slow, rhythmic strokes. My breath kept finding the curve of her neck. The moonlight kept shifting across the sheets as minutes bled into each other.
I listened to her heartbeat.
Steady.
Strong.
Alive.
And I let that be enough.
No words. No confessions. No promises I wasn't sure I could keep. Just the weight of her body against mine and the simple miracle of being held by someone who had seen my darkness and chosen to stay.
The ghosts didn't leave.
They never would.
But they quieted.
They retreated to the corners of the room and watched us from the shadows, and for the first time tonight, I didn't feel their hands on my throat.
I felt hers.
Warm.
Gentle.
Real.
I didn't know how long we lay there like that—her holding me, and me letting myself be held.