Evaline:
I took the stairs to the second floor two at a ti, my chest tight with frustration, my head still buzzing with River’s voice, his hands, his damn phone.
Every step felt like I was trying to outrun the lingering heat of that mont... outrun the disappointnt, the anger, the aching want that had nowhere to go.
When I reached the top, I stopped short.
Oscar was there.
He stood in the hallway, one hand on his bedroom door, clearly about to step inside. He froze the mont he heard my footsteps. When his gaze lifted and landed on my face, his eyebrows rose instantly, confusion giving way to concern as he took in my expression - my clenched jaw, the sting behind my eyes, the frustration I hadn’t bothered to hide.
I didn’t give myself ti to think.
I ran straight toward him.
"Oscar-"
That was all I managed before I threw myself into his arms.
He reacted without hesitation. Strong arms wrapped around , lifting effortlessly as if I weighed nothing. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs instinctively circling his waist, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly tilted off its axis.
He didn’t ask questions.
Didn’t tease.
Didn’t even speak.
With one hand holding securely, the other reached back to push his bedroom door open. He stepped inside, kicked the door closed behind us, and locked it with a soft click.
The room was dark, but he didn’t falter for a second. With his wolf eyesight guiding him, he moved confidently through the space until he reached the bed. He lowered gently onto the mattress, making sure I was steady before pulling back just enough to switch on the bedside lamp.
Warm light filled the room.
Soft. Golden. Safe.
He looked at then... really looked at ... and his voice dropped into that gentle tone that always unraveled .
"Do you want to sleep with tonight?"
I nodded so fast it was almost embarrassing.
"Yes."
A small smile curved his lips. He reached out and patted my head affectionately, grounding even more.
"Alright," he said softly. "Let get changed first, okay?"
I nodded again, curling my fingers into the edge of the mattress as I watched him turn and walk into his closet.
Monts later, he ca back out holding a tank top. He was already in his pajama bottoms, his upper body bare, muscles relaxed and familiar and achingly comforting.
He reached and lifted the tank, about to slip it on.
Before he could, I reached out and grabbed it from his hands.
"You don’t need that," I said casually.
He paused, one eyebrow arching as he looked down at .
"Oh?" he murmured.
I smiled up at him, slow and deliberate. "Can I borrow it instead?"
Sothing warm flickered in his eyes. He nodded once.
I didn’t waste a second.
I stood up, pulled off my night top, then my pajama bottoms. I slipped out of my bra next, completely unbothered by his presence or hus fixed gaze on , leaving only my panties on. I didn’t rush. I didn’t hide. I simply existed in front of him, comfortable and unflustered.
Then I pulled the tank over my head.
It slid down my body, soft cotton skimming bare skin before settling mid-thigh. It covered just enough... loose, long, familiar... leaving both wrapped in him and exposed at the sa ti.
Perfect.
Oscar exhaled slowly.
He climbed onto the bed then, his movent unhurried. The mont he was close enough, his hand fisted in my hair, tilting my head back. His mouth brushed my throat, then pressed a kiss there - warm, possessive - before he pulled back slightly.
"You have beco a dangerous tease," he murmured.
I smiled, proud and unapologetic.
He smiled back.
Then he lay down and tugged with him, pulling into his arms and covering us both with the blanket. I settled against him imdiately, resting my head on his shoulder, my body molding to his in a way that felt instinctive and right.
His arm wrapped around , strong and protective.
I sighed.
Peace washed over , deep and steady. My fingers traced the familiar lines of the tattoo on his chest, following the inked patterns slowly, lovingly. Each curve felt like a map I already knew by heart.
As my fingers wandered, one brushed dangerously close to his nipple.
Mischief imdiately stirred in . And before I could change my mind, I flicked my nail lightly over it.
Oscar’s reaction was instant.
His hand caught my wrist mid-motion, fingers closing firmly but gently. His voice dropped, rich and warning as he spoke my full na.
"Evaline Greystone."
I looked up at him, unsatisfied, pouting slightly. "Don’t call that," I said. "I don’t like that surna."
He studied for a mont, sothing thoughtful in his gaze.
"Then," he asked quietly, "how about being called a Thorne?"
The world stopped.
My breath caught in my throat. My heart stuttered, then raced. Every thought evaporated, leaving only the weight of his words hanging between us.
"Are you... proposing? Like this?" I whispered.
He didn’t laugh. Didn’t deflect.
Instead, he tilted his head slightly. "Do you have any ideas about your proposal?"
I blinked, startled by the question.
"I..." I thought about it honestly. "I never really pictured one for myself. But I have read so in books. Seen so online. So of them are really romantic."
His eyes softened. "Tell your favorite."
So I did.
I told him about quiet monts and heartfelt words. About proposals that weren’t about spectacle but about aning. About being chosen in a way that felt certain and warm and safe.
As I spoke, his thumb traced slow, comforting circles on my arm.
By the ti I finished, my voice had softened, my body heavy with comfort. Sleep tugged at gently.
I was almost drifting off when he spoke again.
"Eva."
I humd sleepily. "Hmm?"
"You still haven’t answered ."
I smiled, nestling closer into his chest.
"It’s a yes."
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