Chapter 29. The Quietest Person in the House Delivers the Loudest Comfort

Chapter 29: 29. The Quietest Person in the House Delivers the Loudest Comfort

Magnara fell beside me, walking with her axe on her shoulder and her face turned straight ahead.

After a minute she said, in a low, flat voice, "That was either very brave or very stupid."

"Why not both?"

"Hm."

I decided to take that as a compliment.

Elsbeth came up on my other side a few minutes later, silently, as she always did. She didn’t look at me.

She was watching the road ahead, and I thought she wasn’t going to say anything at all. Then, just before we reached the door, she spoke without turning her head.

"Do not make promises you cannot keep, Leon Levarion."

"I know."

"But I did not hear a lie."

She walked ahead into the house before I could answer, and I stood there on the doorstep with my mouth hanging open, feeling like I’d just been awarded the Nobel Prize.

It hit me an hour later, in the tiny washroom at the back of the house.

I’d gone in to splash water on my face.

I was standing in front of a cracked basin with my hands on the rim, staring at my reflection in a chipped mirror, and for the first time all day nobody was looking at me.

The adrenaline had drained out of me like water down a drain.

I looked at my hands, and I saw them again.

The sword.

The merchant’s eyes.

The blood.

’I will hunt down every human who owns, sells, or hurts a beastwoman for profit.’

It had been a good speech, just because it had been honest. And it had also, I realized with horrifying clarity, been a promise to kill again.

I’d stood in front of two thousand beastwomen and sworn an oath that would end with more men on the ground with my sword in them. I hadn’t really let that sink in until now.

My stomach lurched. I gripped the basin with white-knuckled hands and tried not to throw up, and I let out a short, ragged laugh that sounded nothing like me.

"Great," I whispered. "Just great... You absolute fucking idiot."

I don’t know how long I stood there.

Eventually I heard soft footsteps behind me, and I didn’t turn around. I knew who it was.

She didn’t say a word. She came into the cramped room, lowered herself to the floor beside the basin, and sat with her back against the wall and her knees drawn up, as if she was just resting.

She didn’t offer me advice. She didn’t tell me everything was going to be okay.

She just sat there, and after a while I slid down the wall to sit next to her.

"I don’t regret saving you," I said at last.

My voice came out rough. "I want you to know that... Not for a second."

"I know."

"But I hate what I had to do... I hate that I did it, and I hate that I’m probably going to have to do it again, and I hate that when I think about it... the worst part is how easy it was."

Millie was quiet for a moment. Then she reached out and laid her hand over mine on the cold floor.

"It’s okay to hate it," she said softly. "I think it would be worse if you didn’t..."

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall. It was the first time I’d said any of that out loud to anyone, and it felt like setting down a bag I’d been carrying for four days.

We sat there for a long time without talking.

...

That night, I was lying on the narrow bed, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think, when a light knock came at the door.

"Come in."

Millie stood in the doorway, hugging her elbows and looking at the floor. She’d changed into a clean nightgown, one of Marrow’s spares that was a little too big at the shoulders, and her hair was damp from washing.

She looked small, nervous, and very... very determined.

Whoa there... what’s going on here...?

"Is everything okay?" I asked, sitting up.

"Yes... No... I mean, I..." She took a breath and tried again. "I wanted to say something."

"I’ve been trying to figure out how to say it all day..."

"Okay... Take your time."

She stayed in the doorway, twisting the hem of her sleeve between her fingers. "I want to thank you properly... for everything... and so... I want to repay you."

I felt something in my chest go cold and careful.

Oh no... I know what this meant...

"Millie, no... You don’t owe me anything."

"I didn’t save you so I could get paid, and I’m not going to accept anything that comes from you feeling like you’re in my debt."

"That’s not what this is..."

"Millie..."

"Please let me finish." Her voice shook, but it didn’t break. "My whole life... every decision about my body was made by somebody else."

"Where I slept... What I wore... Who commanded me, and when, and how..."

"Nobody ever asked me what I wanted, because it never mattered..."

’I don’t think I even knew I was allowed to want something."

She lifted her eyes and looked straight at me, and her eyes were wet but steady.

"I want to know what it feels like to choose... Just one thing... just for myself... And I choose you."

I sat very still. I had never in my entire life been so careful with a sentence.

"Millie," I said slowly, "I need to ask you something, and I need you to think about it honestly..."

"Are you sure this is what you want, and not what you think you’re supposed to want?"

"I’m... sure."

"Is it okay if I ask again?"

A small, damp laugh escaped her. "Yes."

"Because I’m serious... If you change your mind, right now, or in five minutes, or halfway through, you tell me, and we stop."

"I won’t be mad... I won’t be disappointed or hurt or any of that."

"It won’t change anything between us... You can walk out of this room and I’ll still be exactly the same guy tomorrow."

"I know."

"Even if you’re not sure... I’m actually quite the man who’s rough at those kind of things..."

"Leon." She took a step into the room and closed the door behind her. "I’m sure..."

I asked her a third time anyway, because I’m an idiot... just because I wanted to be certain, and I asked it differently, quieter.

She answered by crossing the room, sitting on the edge of the bed, and taking my face in both of her small hands.

I felt her tremble.

I could see the tears on her lashes, and I couldn’t tell if she was crying or laughing or both.

"I’m not scared of you," she whispered. "That’s the strange part..."

"I thought I’d be scared, but no... I want to be with you... and this is my first step..."

When she said that... something snapped inside of me... the playboy... and the fuckboy from my nature is back.

She looked sexy... and even fucking beautiful that I can’t control myself anymore. And so... I moved my head closer.

I leaned in, the space between us evaporating until I could feel the heat radiating off her skin.

When my lips finally crashed against hers, it wasn’t the gentle caress a wounded soul might expect; it was a claim.

I kissed her with a hunger that had been simmering beneath my skin all day, my tongue seeking hers with an urgency that bordered on desperate.

Millie gasped against my mouth, a small, startled sound that died in her throat as she surrendered to the onslaught.

Her hands, small and delicate, traveled up my chest. I felt her palms flatten against my pectorals, her fingers splaying wide.

She wasn’t pushing me away, but she was feeling me. She pressed her palms harder against my sternum, as if trying to anchor herself to the thunderous rhythm of my heartbeat.

Thump thump.

Thump thump.

My heart was trying to break free of my ribs.

"Leon..." she whimpered into the kiss, a broken sound that sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to my groin.

I broke away just enough to breathe, but I didn’t let her go. I stared at her.

Her face was flushed a deep pink, her eyes hazy with a dawning arousal she clearly didn’t fully understand yet. A thin thread of saliva glistened at the corner of her swollen lips.

God, she looked wrecked.

She looked perfect.

The ’fuckboy’ in me, the part of me that lived for the hunt and the conquest, was screaming at me to take her right then and there.

But beneath that was the man who had watched her sit silently beside him in the dark, sharing his pain.

I reached for the hem of that oversized nightgown. My hands were shaking slightly, not from fear, but from the sheer effort of restraint.

As I pulled the fabric upward, Millie flinched.

Instinctively, she crossed her arms over her chest, her white bunny ears flattening against her skull in shame.

"Wait, Leon, I..." she stammered, her voice small.

I stopped. I held her gaze, my eyes dark with something primal.

"Millie. Look at me..."

She lifted her chin, her eyes wet.

"I’m not looking at you like you’re something to be used," I said, my voice dropping to a rough growl. "I’m looking at you because you’re beautiful."

"Because you chose this... Don’t hide from me."

Something shifted in her expression. The shyness didn’t vanish, but it was overridden by that terrifyingly beautiful determination.

Slowly, deliberately, she let her arms drop. She pushed the fabric higher, over her shoulders, until it pooled around her waist, leaving her completely exposed in the dim lamplight.

My breath hitched. Her skin was like cream, flawless and soft.

Her breasts were full, tipped with pale pink nipples that peaked instantly in the cool air.

Her waist tapered down to hips that promised everything I had ever dreamed of, and between her thighs, the soft fur of her bunny tail twitched involuntarily.

"No one..." she whispered, her voice trembling as she stood there, vulnerable and magnificent. "No one has ever dared to touch me like this."

"No one has ever looked at me... like I’m worth seeing." Her eyes locked onto mine. "You’re the first, Leon..."

"Be the first to know all of me."

Fuck... she’s so fucking hot... I don’t think I can really control that beast inside me...