I was sitting on Lewis’s lap, my arms loosely wrapped around his neck.
The shawl I had brought with had slipped off my shoulders at so point and now lay forgotten on the floor by my feet.
Being this close to him, I could feel every shift in his body.
The warmth.
The tension held carefully in check.
That night, he had stopped himself at the edge, holding back even when my breath had turned unsteady. I still didn’t know how he managed that kind of control. Part of trembled just thinking about what it would be like if he ever stopped restraining himself.
"I’m... a little scared," I admitted softly.
His hand ca up to my face, thumb brushing my cheek with surprising gentleness. His eyes were steady, warm, searching.
"Tell ," he asked quietly, "do you resent ... because of my legs?"
When I had agreed to bind my life to his, my reasons had been complicated. Revenge had been one of them. And yes back then, I had believed that a man who couldn’t walk wouldn’t be able to corner or force into anything I didn’t want.
How wrong I’d been.
I shook my head without hesitation.
"I don’t."
I had never planned to leave him. And after seeing how deeply he cared for how he protected without asking for anything in return walking away beca unthinkable.
Coming so close to death had stripped away every lie in my life. It showed who wore kindness like a mask and who stood firm when things fell apart.
Even the friend I had trusted since childhood turned out to be hollow inside.
Lewis, on the other hand, had never pretended to be anything else. His patience had been quiet but unwavering. Even when I had nothing to give him, he stayed.
Since waking up to this second chance at life, he had been there every step of the way. Supporting . Shielding . Waiting.
What I owed him couldn’t be asured.
So when I spoke next, every word ca straight from my heart.
"You don’t need to give anything," I said softly. "Your power, your status... you already have all of that. What I can give you is myself. Every day."
I hesitated, then finally asked the question I had avoided for so long.
"Lewis... is there really no way to heal your legs?"
His gaze sharpened, locking onto mine.
"And if there isn’t?" he asked calmly.
"Then I’ll stay," I answered without pause. "I’ll be with you through everything. If treatnt works, I’ll be there. If it doesn’t... I’ll still be there. For the rest of our lives."
His fingers lifted my chin, forcing to et his eyes. The touch was light, but there was sothing firm beneath it an unspoken authority that made my pulse quicken.
"Elena," he said slowly, "aren’t you afraid of spending your whole life with soone like ?"
"I’m not afraid," I whispered. "Even if nothing changes... we can still live well. We can paint together. Play music. Travel. I can push your chair to the beach and we can watch the sun rise and set. As long as we’re together, that’s enough for ."
A soft breath brushed my ear.
"You’re still too kind," he murmured.
"This lifeti," I said quietly, resting my forehead against his, "I’m only kind to you. To anyone who hurts or you I won’t be gentle at all."
His hand tightened slightly under my chin, making my breath catch as his eyes darkened with sothing deeper.
He smiled at , slow and unreadable.
"Elena... you’re too kind," he said softly. "So kind that it makes want to tell you a secret."
I blinked, confused by the weight in his voice.
"A secret?" I asked. "What kind of secret?"
"This one," he murmured.
Before I could question him further, he leaned in and kissed .
I didn’t fully understand what he ant, but I didn’t pull away either. My hands slid instinctively around his neck, my body responding before my thoughts caught up.
Then suddenly
The ground vanished beneath .
My body lifted, light and weightless, and the man who had been sitting calmly on the piano bench stood up while holding in his arms.
Everything in my mind cracked open at once.
Wait
He was standing.
Standing.
My heart slamd against my ribs, my thoughts scattering like startled birds. The truth hit so hard I could barely breathe.
Lewis’s legs weren’t weak at all.
He had never been broken.
He had been hiding.
I stared at him, stunned, as he rose to his full height. He had always seed tall, but seeing him like this steady, powerful, unrestrained was overwhelming. I felt impossibly small in his arms, my feet dangling as my slippers slipped off and landed softly on the shawl below.
Without thinking, I wrapped my legs around his waist. He didn’t even falter. He carried with ease and set gently on top of the piano.
The silver fabric of my dress spilled down the edge like liquid light.
One of his hands rested firm at my waist, anchoring . The other braced against the piano as he leaned in, his presence closing around completely.
My back arched without permission.
My breath caught.
My toes brushed the keys, pressing down accidentally, sending broken notes into the air.
"Lewis your legs "
The words barely escaped before he kissed again, stealing the rest of my breath like he had every right to it. I clung to him, my body responding to the heat, the closeness, the unmistakable claim in the way he held .
The room felt too small.
Too charged.
He lood over , no longer restrained, his strength unmistakable now. There was sothing ancient in his stillness, sothing that made my pulse race and my instincts hum.
When he finally pulled back, I was dizzy.
In the reflection of his dark eyes, I saw myself flushed, undone, lips swollen, breath shallow. One leg rested against the piano, the other brushed against his suit. I hardly recognized the woman staring back at .
My voice ca out softer than I expected.
"Your legs..." I swallowed. "They’re fine?"
He cupped my cheek, his thumb tracing my lips slowly, possessively. Then he pulled against his chest, his voice low and rough against my ear.
"I wanted to wait longer," he whispered. "I wanted to protect you from this side of ."
His grip tightened just enough to make my heart skip.
"But now..." he continued quietly, "I don’t think I can pretend anymore."
And in that mont, I understood.
He hadn’t been hiding weakness.
He had been holding back power.
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