Morning came slowly.
Soft light filtered through the trees, casting golden shadows across the forest floor. Dew clung to the grass like tiny stars, and birds sang in the distance. Everything felt fresh—like the world had taken a breath and let it out slow.
Kai woke with his cheek pressed to warm skin.
Lucien's chest rose and fell beneath him, strong and steady. One arm was wrapped around Kai's back, fingers resting just above his hip, holding him like he never wanted to let go.
Kai blinked, unsure of what to feel first.
His body ached in places that reminded him of the night before—heat, passion, the way Lucien had touched him like he was something sacred and wild. But more than that, it was the way they'd moved together. The bond. The fire. The trust.
Lucien stirred, his voice rough with sleep. "You're still here."
Kai looked up at him. "You sound surprised."
"I am." Lucien's lips curved in a sleepy smile. "I thought you'd run the moment you could walk."
Kai shifted closer instead, laying his head back down on Lucien's chest. "I thought about it."
Lucien let out a soft laugh. "Did you?"
"Yeah. But then you wrapped your whole damn body around me like a blanket," Kai mumbled. "Didn't leave me much choice."
"Good," Lucien said, voice gentler now. "Because I wasn't ready to let you go."
They were quiet for a while.
Kai listened to the thump of Lucien's heart, steady beneath his ear. It made him feel safe in a way he couldn't explain. Like nothing could touch them here.
"I've never done that before," Kai said suddenly. "Not like… that."
Lucien's hand slid up his back, slow and careful. "I know."
Kai closed his eyes. "Was it… okay?"
Lucien didn't answer right away. He shifted, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Kai's hair. "It was more than okay. It was real."
Kai's throat tightened.
No one had ever said that to him before.
Lucien pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. "You were incredible, Kai. Not just last night. All of it. You're strong, stubborn as hell… and you've got this fire inside you that keeps pulling me closer."
Kai's cheeks warmed. "You're such a sap."
"I am. For you."
They laughed quietly, the air still heavy with warmth and something tender.
Then Lucien sat up, reaching for his discarded shirt. "We should probably get dressed before I decide I don't care about the rest of the world again."
Kai stretched lazily, the blanket slipping off his bare skin. "That sounds like a great idea, actually."
Lucien groaned, looking at him. "You're going to be the death of me."
As they dressed, the quiet became more thoughtful.
Kai looked at his hands. "The magic… it reacted again last night. When we—"
"I know," Lucien said, fastening his belt. "It lit up everything."
Kai frowned. "Is that normal?"
"No." Lucien crossed the space between them and gently took Kai's hand. "It means our bond is getting stronger. Deeper. The connection between us—it's not just physical. It's magical."
Kai looked down at their joined hands. "And dangerous?"
Lucien hesitated. "Maybe. But maybe it's exactly what we need."
They stood there for a moment, fingers laced together, the forest quiet around them.
Lucien brushed a strand of hair from Kai's face. "There's something in you, Kai. Something powerful. And I want to help you learn how to control it. Not just because it's dangerous… but because it's part of you."
Kai looked up at him. "You really believe that?"
"I do."
A breeze passed between them, carrying the scent of pine and fresh earth. It smelled like the beginning of something.
Kai nodded. "Okay. Then teach me."
Lucien smiled—soft, proud. "I will."
They started walking back toward the cabin, hands still joined, steps light even though the road ahead would be long.
Behind them, the clearing shimmered faintly—still touched by the magic they'd made together.
Lucien squeezed Kai's hand once more.
"Come on," he said, giving him a gentle tug toward the cabin. "The world won't wait for us—but we'll face it together."
Kai nodded, a small, certain smile forming on his lips.
"Together," he echoed.
Hand in hand, they stepped out of the sun-dappled clearing, leaving the silver-touched grass—and last night's sparks—glimmering behind them like a quiet promise of everything still to come.