Morning came slowly, seeping in through the cracks in the boarded-up windows of Theron's room like liquid gold. The faint sound of waves in the distance whispered against the silence, and for the first time in what felt like years, the world outside seemed momentarily still.
Egwene stirred, her eyelashes fluttering against the soft skin of Theron's chest. For a heartbeat, she didn't move. Warmth surrounded her—his warmth. The steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath her cheek was comforting, like the lull of a forgotten song. The scent of him—smoke, salt, and something earthy—was still on the sheets, tangled in her hair. Her arm lay across his abdomen, and her leg was thrown carelessly over his. They were completely tangled, impossibly close. Real.
Her brows furrowed as reality began to settle into her bones.
Last night... did it really happen?
Her mind was a blur of emotion and sensation. The heat of his touch, the way his lips had traced the curve of her neck, the way he'd said her name—like it meant something more than survival. She hadn't meant for it to happen, not like that. She had come to his room after the argument with Aaron, her heart bruised and her body exhausted. She'd wanted to feel something good, something human.
And Theron had given her that—and more.
Egwene slowly lifted her head, careful not to stir him. Her gaze traveled over his sleeping face. In the soft light, he looked younger, the harsh lines usually etched into his expression now smoothed out. His dark lashes rested against his cheeks, and his lips were parted slightly as he breathed. There was a faint bruise on his jaw from the punch Aaron gave him yesterday, and another along his shoulder where he'd thrown himself between her and that creature on the supply run.
She studied him like she hadn't been allowed to before. Vulnerable. Peaceful.
Her chest ached.
What did this mean for them now? Was it just comfort, or was it something deeper? In the chaos of their broken world, nothing ever stayed soft for long. She knew that. But she also knew she hadn't felt that safe, that wanted, in a long time.
A sliver of guilt cut through the warmth. Would the others look at her differently if they found out? Would Aaron?
Aaron.
She shook the thought away.
Carefully, she began to slide out of Theron's arms. She didn't want to wake him. The air was cooler away from him, and she missed his heat the moment she pulled back. Her bare feet touched the floor, cold against her skin, and she reached for her clothes they both threw away last night.
She had just slipped it halfway on when she felt a hand wrap firmly around her waist.
"Going somewhere?" Theron's voice was rough from sleep, low and gravelly. A shiver danced down her spine.
Egwene froze. "I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered.
Theron pulled her back, gently but insistently, until she landed against his chest with a soft gasp. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his arms wrapping around her midsection.
"You weren't going to sneak out on me, were you?" he murmured against her skin, his lips brushing just beneath her ear.
She squirmed slightly, cheeks flushing. "I wasn't sneaking," she lied. "I was just—thinking."
He hummed, the sound vibrating through her. "Dangerous thing to do, first thing in the morning."
Egwene tried to wriggle free again, but he only tightened his grip, pulling her fully back into the bed. She landed with a soft laugh, muffled against his chest.
"This isn't fair," she murmured.
"What's not?"
"You. Being so warm."
"That's just biology," he said, amused. "Men run hotter. You'll freeze out there without me."
"I was going to get dressed," she argued.
Theron leaned up on one elbow and finally looked at her. There was a softness in his eyes, still half-lidded with sleep, but filled with something unspoken.
"I meant what I said last night," he said quietly.
Egwene's breath caught. "About what?"
"That I'm not letting anything take you away from me."
The room was quiet, but it was no longer still.
"I know things are broken out there," he continued, brushing her hair behind her ear. "And I know this—what we have—it might not make sense to anyone else. But I don't care. I'm not letting you go, Egwene. Not now."
She swallowed hard, staring at him, trying not to let the tears sting her eyes. "I'm scared," she admitted.
"So am I."
They stayed like that for a while, hearts pressed close, breaths in sync. And though the world outside remained uncertain—wild and dangerous—inside Theron's room, everything felt steady.
For now.
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