Page 63 of Bitten & Burned

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I didn’t want to ask anyone. Not anymore.

But I did want someone. The admission sat heavy in my chest, as if saying it—even silently—had weight.

I crossed to the table and poured a glass of wine. Just one. Slowly. Like the ritual might ground me. The swirl of red in the glass felt like it was drawing a circle I could step into and stay inside.

I didn’t drink it. Just held it for a moment, then set it down on the table beside the second empty glass Cassian had left.

I didn’t know why I didn’t put it away.

Maybe I was hoping.

I glanced toward the window. The breeze had cooled. The shadows stretched longer.

I didn’t light the lanterns yet. I liked the half-dark.

The breeze shifted. And with it—something familiar. Earth and smoke. That faint trace of cold metal and old stone. It slipped into the room like something ancient returning home.

Dmitri.

I closed my eyes. Could almost feel the weight of his hand resting beside mine, his presence so quiet I never noticed it until it was gone.

I sat down on the chaise and picked up the little rabbit. Set the river stone near the glasses like it belonged there.

I didn’t call for him.

But if he came?—

I’d ask him to stay.

Something in the bond fluttered.

Not loud. Not pulling. Just a presence. Steady. Near.

Then—movement. The faint creak of the door. The hush of someone stepping inside.

I didn’t flinch. Didn’t look up right away.

I knew.

I turned my head, slowly.

Dmitri stood in the doorway.

No knock. No announcement. Just him. Big and quiet and watchful. Like he’d always belonged here.

He looked at me—not with hunger or concern, but with something steadier.

Permission.

“Hi,” I said softly.

“Hi,” he answered. Then paused. “Are you okay, Mishka?”

I nodded.

Then: “I didn’t know if you’d come.”

His shoulders lifted just slightly. “Didn’t need an invitation. I felt it.”

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