Chapter 140: Love Birds - Callista's POV

The next thing I knew, sunlight was hitting my face. I groaned softly and buried myself deeper beneath the blankets, instinctively reaching for warmth beside me, only to freeze when my hand landed on solid muscle.

Memory came rushing back all at once. Him. We had slept all night in my room besides when I woke up around midnight.

My eyes snapped open.

For one horrifying second, I thought the bed was empty again. That somehow the entire night had been a dream my exhausted brain invented because missing him had finally broken me beyond repair. Then I looked up.

He was still there. Relief hit so hard it nearly made me dizzy.

He was lying on his back now, one arm tucked behind his head while the other remained loosely around my waist like he had fallen asleep trying to keep me close. Morning light filtered through the rain-streaked windows, casting pale gold across his face and dark hair.

And fates. He was beautiful.

He wasn’t polished like some people were. There was something rougher about him now compared to before he left. He had sharper edges now. Exhaustion carved faint shadows beneath his eyes, and now I got a good look at those scars I thought I kept seeing. They were scattered near his jaw and collar bone.

Those hadn’t been there.

I reached out, my fingertips gently grazing one. His eyes snapped open.

“Training,” he breathed before closing his eyes again.

My chest tightened painfully at every single one as my fingers dragged across them.

The storm had weakened sometime during the night. Rain still fell softly outside, but now the mountains beyond my windows were visible through the mist. Everything felt strangely peaceful as I sat here looking at everything that had changed on his face.

As my fingers went down his throat, his entire body reacted. His hand tightened around my waist while his eyes opened with terrifying speed. Panic flashing across his face so violently it stole my breath.

For one awful second, he looked ready to fight, then he saw me again. The panic disappeared so quickly it hurt to witness.

“Hey,” I whispered immediately. “I thought you were awake. You answered me and said training.”

His breathing was uneven as he stared at me, trying to orient himself. “Sorry,” he rasped after a second, his voice rough with sleep. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You don’t have to apologize for that.”

His jaw tightened slightly. “I wasn’t fully awake when I spoke.”

And there it was again. That guilt he carried around like chains wrapped around his ribs.

I hated it.

Carefully, I reached up and brushed my fingers through his hair until some of the tension left his shoulders. “You’re safe,” I murmured. “Training must have been horrible for you to jump like that.”

Something in his expression cracked at the words. It wasn’t visible enough that anyone else would notice, but I did, because I knew him.

His eyes drifted shut briefly as he leaned into my touch for half a second before catching himself. That tiny instinctive movement nearly broke my heart.

“How long have you been awake?” He asked quietly.

“Maybe two minutes.” I smiled faintly. “It was long enough to decide you’re ridiculously pretty.”

His eyes opened immediately. “Callista.”

“What?” I grinned sleepily. “It’s true.”

He looked genuinely offended by the compliment, which only made me more amused.

“You’re something else,” he muttered.

“And yet here you are in my bed.”

A dangerous sort of softness flickered briefly across his face before he looked away toward the windows. I saw the exact moment his thoughts started spiraling again.

His expression darkened slightly. I sighed internally.

Five seconds. That had to be a new record.

“What are you thinking about now?” I asked carefully.

He was quiet for a moment too long. “That eventually this peace is going to end.”

The honesty in his voice hurt.

I shifted upward until I could gently take his face between my hands, forcing him to look back at me. “Then we enjoy it while we have it.”

His eyes searched mine carefully like he was trying to understand how I made things sound so simple. Maybe because, in some ways, they were simple.

I loved him. He loved me even if he still looked terrified every time he realized it. And whatever came next, we would survive it together or not at all.

“You really believe that?” He whispered.

“Yes.”

The word hung softly between us.

His eyes stayed fixed on mine like he was searching for hesitation that wasn’t there. I could practically see the war happening inside his head. Part of him wanted to believe me fighting against everything the past year had taught him. Slowly, I brushed my thumb along his cheekbone.

“You think too much,” I whispered.

A faint huff of amusement escaped him. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“True,” I admitted. “But right now I’m trying to focus on more important things.”

His brows furrowed slightly. “Such as?”

Instead of answering, I leaned down and kissed him. The reaction was immediate.

His breath caught sharply while his hand tightened instinctively against my waist like he was afraid I might disappear if he didn’t hold on hard enough. For a second he didn’t move at all, almost startled by it, before he finally kissed me back.

And fates. I had missed this and him so much.

The kiss was slow at first, hesitant in that heartbreaking way he always was now, like some part of him still couldn’t fully believe he was allowed to touch me. But when my fingers slid into his hair, the restraint cracked slightly.

A quiet sound escaped him against my mouth. Warmth curled low in my stomach at the noise.

I shifted closer without really thinking about it, pushing the blankets down enough to climb over him until I was straddling his waist on top of the covers. His hands immediately steadied on my hips, his fingers flexing hard enough that I could feel the hesitation there too.

He wanted to pull me closer but was afraid of holding too tightly. I pulled back just enough to look at him.

His hair was messy from sleep, his cheeks slightly flushed, and his eyes, well, it should have been illegal with how he was looking at me.

“What?” He asked quietly, clearly noticing my expression.

“You’re staring at me again,” I murmured.

“That’s because you’re sitting on me.”

I grinned. “And whose fault is that?”

A reluctant smile tugged at his mouth before fading into something softer. His thumbs brushed absentmindedly against my hips beneath my shirt, and the tenderness of it made my chest ache. There was still caution in every movement he made.

Fear was still there, but desire was too.

He wanted this, me, and mornings like this where the world felt small and quiet and safe enough to breathe in. I could see it all over his face.

His gaze drifted slowly across mine before he reached up carefully, brushing hair away from my cheek. The touch was so gentle it almost hurt.

“You’re real, right?” He asked softly.

The question shattered something inside me.

I leaned down again immediately, pressing another kiss to his mouth before he could retreat back into his own head. His grip on my hips tightened this time, more certain now as he kissed me back harder than before.

That was better.

He kissed like he felt things too deeply and didn’t know what to do with the weight of it. It was as if every touch carried months of grief and relief tangled together.

I swallowed every bit of it willingly.

His hand slid upward along my waist carefully before stopping just beneath my ribs, like he was checking whether this was still okay. I melted against him a little more in response, and the shaky breath that left him nearly made me smile against his mouth.

“You have got to stop looking so surprised that I want you,” I whispered when we finally pulled apart.

A blush immediately crept across his face again.

“You say things like that on purpose,” he muttered.

“Maybe I enjoy making you blush.”

“You definitely enjoy making me suffer.”

“That too.”

He actually laughed then. The sound hit me straight in the chest.

For a moment neither of us spoke, then his expression shifted again.

I sighed dramatically. “You’re thinking again.”

“I’m always thinking.”

“Horrible habit.”

One corner of his mouth lifted faintly before his hands settled more firmly against my hips. “Callista.”

The tone immediately caught my attention. “What?”

His eyes searched mine carefully, vulnerability flickering there so openly it made my chest tighten.

“I meant it last night,” he said quietly. “About wanting this. I want a life with you forever.”

Warmth spread through me so quickly it almost hurt.

“This?” I teased softly. “You mean me aggressively sitting on you before breakfast?”

His expression turned exasperated. “You know what I mean.”

I did. I absolutely did.

The teasing faded from my face as I looked down at him, really looked at him. At the exhaustion still lingering beneath his eyes. He was trying so hard to hide the fear from me, but hope was slowly threading itself through him despite everything trying to kill it.

My hands slid gently into his hair again as I leaned down until our foreheads touched.

“I know,” I whispered.

His eyes closed immediately at the contact, and the relief that crossed his face was so raw it nearly broke me apart.

A violent pounding suddenly rattled my bedroom door.

“Hey, love birds,” Raze called out. “Luna Monroe says if you two don’t come down and eat right now, she’s coming in there and I don’t think you want that.”

I froze.

The horror on my face must have been obvious because beneath me, he immediately started laughing.