He stirred and cracked one eye open. “You’re staring.”
“I am,” she said, unashamed.
His mouth twitched. “Why?”
“Because I still can’t believe it.” Her voice dropped, like it might shatter the quiet. “We survived. You’re here.”
He pulled her in closer, voice thick with sleep and something sweeter. “Where else would I be?”
Her answer was a soft kiss to his chest. Right over his heart.
They stayed like that for a while. Wrapped in warmth and breath and silence.
Eventually, she untangled herself and padded into the kitchen, tugging one of his non-ripped shirts over her shoulders like a shield. The floorboards creaked familiarly under her bare feet. She set water to boil and rummaged through her absurd collection of teas. Dominic had teased her for having over forty blends. She’d dared him to try them all before judging. He’d made it through twelve.
She chose one he liked—smoky with a hint of lavender—and began preparing two mugs.
He came in behind her, yawning and scratching his chest. The sight of him, rumpled and real and still shirtless, made her heart stutter in her chest.
“You making that weird forest brew again?” he asked, sliding his arms around her waist.
“You love the weird forest brew.”
“Only because you make it,” he muttered into her neck.
She laughed, the sound soft and rare. “You’re ridiculous.”
He kissed her temple. “And you love it.”
They curled up on the couch, the enchanted blanket now draped across their laps, mugs cradled between hands. Rain began to tap gently against the windows, slow and rhythmic, like the forest was finally settling too.
“You ever think we’d get here?” he asked after a few minutes.
She took a long sip before answering. “No. I didn’t let myself.”
Dominic turned to face her more fully. “Why not?”
“Because people like me don’t get endings like this. We get warnings. We get curses. We get told to be careful with what we love.”
He reached out and tucked a curl behind her ear. “And now?”
“Now,” she said slowly, “I think maybe we fought hard enough to deserve it.”
His grin was slow and dangerous. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
They sat for a while longer, exchanging stories of childhood memories and half-forgotten dreams, until the air turned quieter, cozier. She leaned forward and grabbed a small carving stone from the side table, along with her favorite rune chisel.
Dominic raised a brow. “Crafting already?”
“I want to make something,” she said, brushing her fingers over the smooth stone. “Something just for you.”
She carved slowly, pressing her magic into the grooves. Each stroke was careful, intentional. When it was done, she handed it to him.
His name was etched in ancient runic script across the stone’s face. Woven through it were smaller sigils of loyalty, strength, and soul-binding.
He turned it over in his hands like it was something holy.
“I want you to keep it,” she said quietly. “It’s yours. It means you’re part of this place. Part of me.”
