Page 160 of The Hunter's Empire

Instead of answering, she studies my face for a long moment before reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair away from my forehead. The gesture is so gentle it almost catches me off guard.

"I like you better when you're quiet."

I catch her hand before she can pull it away, turning it over to press a lingering kiss into her palm.

"I like you better when you're smiling."

Her expression softens almost immediately. "I wasn't smiling."

"You are now, Elf."

She lets out the smallest laugh and shakes her head before hiding her face against my chest, pretending to be annoyed. "I hate that nickname."

"No, you don't."

"...Maybe a little."

"Good." I murmur, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I'd hate to have to find you another one."

She slips her fingers between mine, absentmindedly tracing the scars across my knuckles with her thumb before giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

"You'd still call me Elf."

"I would."

"I know."

The conversation fades as naturally as it began. Neither of us feels the need to fill the silence anymore. After everything we'd survived, simply lying there together somehow says more than words ever could.

Chapter 35

Zora

The morning after spending the night at Nico's house, I wake feeling as though I haven't rested at all. My body is heavy, but it's the ache beneath my ribs that lingers the most. Yesterday changed everything, leaving me caught somewhere between heartbreak, relief, and confusion.

For a few hours last night, none of it seemed to matter. Wrapped in Nico's arms, the noise in my head finally quieted, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I simply existed instead of constantly fighting to hold myself together.

That feeling lingers with me as I lie there staring at the ceiling. It doesn't erase what happened, but it softens the sharpest edges of it, leaving behind a quiet warmth that makes climbing out of bed just a little easier.

With a quiet sigh, I force myself out of bed and slip into the adjoining bathroom. After a warm shower, I realize I have nothing to change into. Opening Nico's wardrobe, I find a neatly folded black T-shirt and pull it over my head. It hangs almost to the middle of my thighs, carrying the faint scent of his cologne. Somehow, wearing something that belongs to him feels strangely comforting. I roll the sleeves up, take one last look at myself in the mirror, and make my way downstairs.

The smell of coffee reaches me before the kitchen does as I step through the doorway to find Nico standing at the stove, his back to me, attempting to make breakfast.Attemptingbeing the important word.

At that exact moment, smoke begins curling lazily out of the toaster.

Nico glances at it, then calmly pulls out two slices of bread that have been burned beyond recognition. He studies them for a moment with complete seriousness before turning toward me.

"Breakfast." He announces, holding them up proudly. "Perfectly crispy."

I blink. "They're charcoal."

"I prefer ambitious."

Despite everything, the corner of my mouth betrays me. "You burned the toast."

"In my defense," he says, dropping the blackened slices onto a plate, "the toaster was clearly overqualified for the job."

A reluctant laugh escapes me. "You've survived firefights, but a kitchen appliance defeated you."