Page 64 of Bitten & Burned
I swallowed. “You felt… what?”
“That you weren’t closing yourself off anymore.”
We looked at each other for a long moment. And this time, I was the one who moved first.
I reached toward him. Just held out a hand.
And he came to me—no questions, no hesitation.
Sat down beside me, solid and silent, his warmth like gravity.
I leaned into him slowly, head against his chest.
His arm wrapped around my shoulders.
Nothing demanding. Nothing tight.
Just… there.
Safe.
The kind of safe that made my bones remember how to unclench.
“Dmitri?”
“Yes, Mishka?”
“Why do you call me that?”
“Because it’s what you are. A little bear. Brave. Fierce when you need to be. But also small… and mine.”
“I don’t feel brave or fierce right now.”
“No one does all the time. Bravery’s a choice in the moment, not a constant state.”
“I just want to hide.”
“That’s okay. Little bears hide when they need to.”
“And I don’t want to talk about anything else,” I whispered.
“You don’t have to.”
And we sat like that, while the room darkened around us.
His arm around me was solid, steady. He didn’t pull me closer. He didn’t ask for anything. Just… stayed.
I rested my head on his chest, listening to the slow, deep rhythm of his breath. Not even his heartbeat. Just his breath.
No pressure.
No need.
Just the space to exist.
I don’t know how long we sat like that. Long enough for the light to fade entirely. Long enough for the quiet to become comfortable, not heavy.
Long enough for me to know I didn’t want him to leave.
