“Did you actually need something when you came down here?” I ask Ronan, and his eyes dart around the greenhouse, inspecting everything.

  “We just wanted to check out your work. Before, you said our food stores wouldn’t last through winter… Do you think this will be enough?”

  “Yeah,” I say as I glance at the hundreds of tiny sprouts. “A lot of this stuff grows fast. As long as you keep hunting, we’ll be able to grow enough to fill the gaps. Next year, we can expand the garden, but it’ll get us through.”

  “Good,” Ronan breathes, and as he looks around at the budding plants, his guard is down for a moment. Without the mask, it’s easy to see the weight of responsibility in the worried lines of his face. I give him a hard time about being our self-appointed unofficial leader, but he has everyone’s best interests at heart. We all know that.

  “Alright, big guy, let’s get out of their way.” Cameron takes Ronan by the hand and leads him outside, but not before he tosses me a wink. A sense of dread hits me in the gut, because there’s no telling what he’s up to.

  “Katsurrel?” Nyx’s voice is muffled from his face being shoved against my neck, and I release my grip on him. His pointy chin lifts as I glance down, and I press a peck on his lips as I wait. “What is a blowing job?”

  I choke on absolutely nothing, coughing so violently that Nyx recoils and jerks away. “Where did you hear that?” I ask as I try not to hack my lungs right out of my mouth. Something tells me he wouldn’t appreciate it.

  He flushes, watching me with concern as I bang on my chest. “Cameron told me to ask you.”

  “Of course he did,” I wheeze. My entire head and neck flush, and I’m guessing Nyx knows I’m about to say something that’ll embarrass him too. Civilized folk don’t casually discuss blowjobs in the middle of daily chores like heathens. Those are more intimate conversations, meant for… private times. But fuck, if he isn’t looking at me with his unbridled curiosity, and I already swore not to handle him with kid gloves.

  “It’s, um, a sex thing.” I awkwardly and needlessly gesture at his crotch like the classy man I am. “That involves, um, mouths and…” I gesture again.

  Nyx makes a noise, a half-cough, half-snort I’m pretty sure is an embarrassed laugh. “He is…”

  “Meddlesome?” I supply, and he tilts his head. “It means he likes getting in the middle of other people’s business.”

  Nyx nods, still with an adorable flush to his cheeks. “He is meddlesome.” He glances at me and then his eyes dart away, licking his lips a few times. “Would it… that… be… something you w-wanted? With… me?”

  Seven hells, I really won’t survive this. “Yes,” I say honestly, and he makes another of those sweet little squeaks deep in his throat. “But only when you’re ready. There’s no rush, Nyx. We have time.”

  “All I have ever had was time,” he says as he finally holds my eyes. “Wasted time. I am tired of wasting time.”

  My arms open in an invitation, and he rushes forward and buries himself in my hug. I press my lips against the crown of his head, and the awkwardness disappears as I hold him there. “Gods, I want to give you everything. You know that, don’t you? How honored I am that you trust me with this? Anything you want to try, we’ll try, but we don’t have to rush, and you can always change your mind. You owe me nothing, okay? Even if you think I want something.”

  “What if I am the one who wants it?” he whispers, and I hug him tighter as I force myself to swallow.

  “Then you’ll have it. Whatever it is.”

  He nods, his hair sticking in my beard with the motion. We stand there for a few quiet moments before he says, “There is one thing I… that I want to…” He takes a deep breath and tries again. “Can you help me with something?”

  “Anything.”

  He hesitates, and I run my hand along his long, lopsided braid, waiting for him to gather his thoughts. “My cottage?”

  “What sort of help do you need, love?”

  “I want… to make it… better. More. Bring things in and make it… not… I want a h-home.”

  A home.

  Not a prison, or a cell.

  Not a punishment, but a place of peace.

  I’m so proud of him I’m afraid I might burst right out of my skin.

  “Yeah,” I rasp, closing my eyes as he breathes a shaky, relieved sigh. “Yeah, of course I can do that for you.”

  Nyx

  Reyes and Elas carry a dresser through the door of my cottage, although I’m not confident Elas needs the help. I’m pretty sure he’s just being kind, while I’m positive Reyes is being stubborn. The thought makes me smile.

  We carried everything outside—removed the sparse furniture that reminded me of my prison. We did that part on our own. There were so few things that it only took us twenty minutes to strip this place bare. But once the house was empty, Reyes grimaced and apologized. He told me he needed to ask someone to help, as though I expected him to do the work on his own.

  I planned to help.

  Really, I did, but as it turns out… I’m not very good at moving things. My arms are weak from never using those muscles, and I have this annoying tendency to trip on my feet when I wear shoes. The second time I stubbed my toe and thought I might die of embarrassment, Reyes lifted me onto the counter and kissed me until I was happy again.

  Now I sit and snack on a bowl of strawberries while the two of them sweat and bicker. Earlier, Elas referred to me as a trophy mate and said I was perched on my pedestal. He assured me it was a good thing, though, and teasingly told Reyes he could use more trophies. Reyes rolled his eyes, but fed me a strawberry and gave me a kiss, so I didn’t press the matter.

  They place the dresser next to the new, bigger bed that sits in the corner of the bedroom. Before today, I had only stepped foot inside that room once, and determined I didn’t need it before closing the door for good.

  I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do with this extra space. What do people use all these rooms for, anyway?

  There’s an entire room for the bed, while the main area now houses two mismatched chairs. They are from the collection of spare things in the storage building, so no one was using them. They make the space feel cozy. One is taller, with faded navy blue fabric that I spent the morning scrubbing clean. I can imagine Reyes sitting there with me at his feet, braiding my hair by the daylight coming through the window. The other chair is shorter with more stuffing, covered in a striped maroon and gold upholstery Elas called tacky.

  I like tacky.

  It’s interesting.

  There’s also a new table in the corner, with a couple of wooden spindly chairs pushed underneath it. A smile tugs at my lips as I picture us eating breakfast there.

  But my favorite piece is in the kitchen. Reyes built a small freestanding shelf and filled it with potted flowers and the tiny green Herbs from the garden. He says they’ll taste good in the food we will cook together here.

  My heart hurts so much I can hardly stand it, because it doesn’t know how to love like this.

  Doesn’t know, but wants to try.

  Reyes walks over with a smile, and I hold out a strawberry for him. He obliges me, taking a giant bite out of the end and chewing as I nibble the rest of the fruit from around the stem. He grabs my cheeks and pulls me in for a kiss before I can even wipe the juices away, and I huff an amused breath against his mouth.

  “So sweet,” he murmurs, then kisses me again. “I love it when you do that.”

  “Do what?” I ask as he releases me, and I swipe a stray drip of strawberry juice from the corner of his lips.

  “Laugh.”

  My instinct is to argue with him, because I don’t laugh. Never have, and never had a reason to. But I hesitate as I replay the last few days in my mind, remembering the random, overwhelming rushes of happiness that are becoming more frequent. They fill me so full, they need somewhere to go. Reyes must see the confusion on my face, and he hums a quiet, thoughtful sound.

  “I shouldn’t have said anything, should I? Did I make it weird?”

  “No, you didn’t. I… laughed?”

  “Mm-hmm. Six whole times.”

  “You counted?” I ask, though I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me. He has always paid attention to the little things.

  He steps closer, placing himself between my legs and wrapping his arms around my back. “Six, if I’m not counting the tiny ones that I can’t really be sure are laughs. You’ve also given me one hundred and thirty-eight smiles, and twenty-seven kisses.” Another rush of emotion hits me, and I close the distance between us. “Twenty-eight,” he murmurs, the sound muffled by my lips.

  My position on the counter makes me taller than him, and he nuzzles his face into my neck. His breath blows over the place where that heavy collar used to sit, but the memory doesn’t trap me—paralyze me—like it did in the past. All that’s there is him, and the ticklish scratch of his beard, but I don’t pull away. I drape my arms around his shoulders and relish the closeness.

  His voice is deeper as he says, “You have sixty-one of those tiny golden freckles, and seven shades of green in your eyes.”

  “Katsurrel,” I whine, and he hugs me tighter, his lips ghosting against my neck.

  “When you were asleep those days, I tried to count your eyelashes, but I lost track at two hundred and fifty. It’s more than that, but not by much.”

  Tears pool in my eyes. My chest used to be so barren… so empty… but now it’s full of his lightness. A quiet sob slips loose, and Reyes whines as he kisses my neck again, then my jaw. “Don’t cry, sirrha.”

  My bottom lip wobbles as I press my nose into his hair. “Happy tears.”

  “Those are the best kind,” he agrees as his thumb spins slow circles on my lower back. “When you’re ready, I have a few things for you at my house.”

  “More presents?” I ask with a sniffle.

  “Yes, stuff I brought with me from the camp… fresh sheets, blankets, and a few pillows. Some glasses and plates for the kitchen, and a couple of towels and a curtain for the shower. Oh, and a rug to put beside your bed. It’ll keep your feet from getting cold when you wake up.” A grin tugs at my lips. Reyes loves his things, and though we don’t spend much time at his house, I’m always fascinated when I peek inside the boxes he stores there.

  “Don’t you need them?”

  “Mmm,” he hums, lifting his head to kiss me sweetly. “I need you, and I want to take care of you like you deserve.”

  “Stay with me tonight,” I whisper before I lose my nerve. Eyes darting around my face, he hesitates, and I sense the argument brewing on his tongue. “Don’t say no,” I beg, and his gaze softens further. “Please? I want you, I want… I just… I want.”

  “I would love that,” he says, his voice low and sincere. He glances outside at the early evening sun, still tracing shapes on my back. “Why don’t we clean up and eat dinner, and then we can grab your new things from my house?” I nod, pulling him in for another hug before he lifts me from the counter and sets me on the ground.

  Dinner is a bowl of scrambled eggs and vegetables, with a side of smoked meat for Reyes. He’s ravenous after working all day, and I grin as I watch him inhale his food. When he catches me, his eyes widen, and he wipes a stray piece of egg from his lips sheepishly. I laugh again, and this time, I’m aware.

  Seven laughs.

  We clean our dishes and collect the things from inside his house. A green and white rug, blue sheets for the bed, and a blanket he called crow-shay that is a rainbow of purples, reds, and oranges that remind me of the sunset. While we’re there, I stop and look at the stack of books that sits next to his bed, and my eyebrows shoot up at the pictures on the front of them.

  “These are the naked man books Elas does not like,” I say, and a high-pitched laugh leaves his throat as he steps up beside me. Broad chests and defined abs decorate the covers, and I’m suddenly aware of my small stature. “This is why you push me to eat more? How you want me to look?”

  “Gods, no,” he says, and there’s no hesitation in his response. He takes the book from my hands and grips my arms, forcing me to face him. There’s so much sincerity in his expression, such honesty in his eyes that it’s impossible not to believe his words. The panic that was creeping in recedes, and I can breathe again.

  “How many times have I told you that you’re perfect?” he demands.

  “Twenty-two.”

  His eyes go wide. “You counted?!”

  My lips twitch, and I laugh again. Eight laughs. “No,” I say with a grin that hurts my cheeks. “I made it up.”

  “Oh my gods, now I get to count your jokes!” A gleeful laugh of his own slips free, loud and unrestrained. His arms band around me and he twirls so hard my feet fly off the ground, and I’m dizzy as he kisses me silly. We leave the books behind as he gives me the blanket to carry.

  “Will you teach me to read?” I ask, then duck my head as my voice drops to an indistinct murmur. “I don’t know how.”

  “Of course you don’t know how. I’m so impressed with how quickly you’ve picked up our language, but you’re still learning. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He makes it sound so simple, and I find myself nodding along in agreement instead of being embarrassed.

  “You will teach me, then?”

  We approach my door with our armfuls of colorful things, and he bumps me with his shoulder. “I’ve already told you, precious. Whatever you want.” I nod, too overwhelmed to speak, as I often become, but he doesn’t mind.

  He’s never minded my silence.

  We step inside, and I stare at the room. It’s so different from this morning, it feels like we’re in a new place. Filled with more things, but not crowded or overwhelming. Comfortable and inviting, with green light from the vines on the windows filtering across the floor. It’s like I’ve leapt through time, shedding the empty shell I once was and arriving in this moment, where I’m so full of emotion I might explode with it.

  As if sensing the change in my mood, Reyes takes the blanket, his fingers brushing my skin. I glance at where he touched me, then up into his cautious eyes. “Let’s get your bedroom set up, okay?” I nod again, and when he hands me a corner of the sheets, it gives my mind somewhere to focus. We make the bed and cover it with the blanket, then Reyes reappears with the rug in his hand.

  “Which side of the bed do you sleep on?”

  “Side?” Confused, I look at him as he rubs the woven material between his fingers, and his pained smile tells me I’ve done something else to make him sad.

  “Most people have a preference for the side of the bed they sleep on, especially when they’re sharing with someone. We’ll put the rug on whichever side you choose.”

  The window is to the left of the bed, with a gap between the mattress and the wall just wide enough to walk in. The right faces the door and the dresser. I tilt my head to the left side. “That’s what I thought,” he says, stopping to kiss my temple before he spreads the rug in the small opening.

  Once he’s done, he stands with his hands on his hips, biting his lip between his teeth. His voice is quiet, so calm it feels flat, as he asks, “Would you be more comfortable with me sleeping in one of the chairs tonight? I don’t mind.”

  Immediately, I shake my head, desperate for his arms to ground me. Change is hard, regardless of whether it’s good or bad, and today was an upheaval of everything familiar. “Stay with me.”

  His only show of nerves is the flex of his fingers against his hipbone, but I notice it. I cherish it, because it shows he is just as scared as I am. “You can shower first,” he says, “and I’ll clean up when you’re done.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, anxiety getting the best of me as I rinse myself under the chilly spray of the shower. My heart thuds so heavily, my hands shake with its beat as I dry myself with one of the new towels Reyes brought over. His comforting scent wraps around me as I pull on one of his shirts. It calms my jittery hands enough for me to find the courage to return to the bedroom.

  He turns when he hears me, then sucks in a sharp breath as his gaze drops to my bare legs sticking out from underneath the shirt. That now-familiar ball of heat builds in my stomach as he peruses my body, and being the object of his desires is a powerful, heady thing. He inhales deeply as his eyes linger on the edge of the shirt, before snapping up to meet mine.

  “I’ll be… right back. Don’t… gods, don’t move. No, you can move, you can get comfortable in bed, just don’t… change… I’m going to shower now.” The words pour out of him in a flustered rush as his eyes get comically wider. He nearly walks into the doorframe because he’s staring over his shoulder at me, and I bite my bottom lip as I try not to laugh at his stumbling.

  The mattress is softer than what I’m used to, and the sheets are crisp as I slide between them. Everything smells clean and fresh, and my head sinks into the pillow as I listen to the plunk of water from the bathroom. Reyes finishes showering, the tips of his curls damp as he walks into the room wearing only a pair of shorts.

  “Is this… okay?” he asks, and I let my gaze drift over his exposed chest.

  “This is perfect,” I say, and he nods a few times before he climbs into bed. The mattress dips under his weight as the sun takes its last breath of the day, and together, we’re left in the darkness.

  Nyx

  My fingers squeeze around the blanket and worn cotton sheets, trying to steady my breathing as he slides between them to join me.

  Despite the chilly shower, Reyes’s body is as hot as mine. The bed smells like him, and his presence swallows everything else in the room. He scoots closer, and his attention is a physical thing, scoring over my skin. That demanding heaviness in my stomach swells, and moves lower until I’m on fire with it. My breathing comes faster as I try to level myself.

  “Is this okay?” His voice is deeper than normal, cautious but just as uncontrolled as I feel.

  “Yes,” I whisper as he settles behind me. The coarse hair on his legs creates the most decadent friction on my calves and thighs. The shirt blocks it from scratching against my back, but I want to feel it. I want to feel all of him. He inches closer, and his beard tickles the nape of my neck as he presses a soft kiss there.