Page 82 of The Hyena’s Guardian

“Until you.”

Theron simply stared.

Of everything he had expected Matt Reynolds to say, that confession had not even occurred to him as a possibility. It carried no embarrassment or apology, only trust, and Theron found himself almost overwhelmed by the weight of it.

After a long silence, he spoke. “You still wish to come into the water?”

Matt nodded without hesitation. “If you'll have me.”

Something warm settled in Theron's chest, chasing away a little more of the mountain's cold. He held Matt's gaze for another long moment before inclining his head. “I would.”

Only then did Matt begin stripping off his outer gear near the edge of the cavern. Theron tried very hard not to watch him.

He failed spectacularly.

Matt's body carried its own collection of scars beneath the dirt and exhaustion. Some were old and faded pale with time, while others looked newer, earned somewhere between the mountain and whatever life Matt had lived before it. Bruises darkened one shoulder where falling debris had clipped him earlier that night, spreading ugly purple beneath damp skin.

Theron found himself wondering about the older scars despite knowing he should not.

The moment Matt stepped into the water, the cavern filled subtly with his scent beneath the steam and mineral heat. Theron caught cedar first, then gun oil, cold stone, and the lingering trace of smoke that always seemed woven into him after battle. Beneath all of it lingered something warmer that reminded Theron painfully of older things: rain-soaked pine forests, fire-lit camps buried beneath winter mountains, and the quiet steadiness of soldiers who sat awake through the night so others could sleep.

It was the kind of scent Theron associated with loyalty, which frightened him far more than violence ever had.

Matt stepped carefully into the water and hissed softly as the heat reached him. “Oh wow,” he muttered. “I might actually cry.”

Theron looked away before the fondness threatening beneath his ribs became too obvious.

Matt moved deeper into the pool until he stood beside him beneath the faint drifting steam. Up close, Theron could see exhaustion lingering around his eyes despite the humor still present in his expression. For a while neither of them spoke. The quiet between them no longer felt uncomfortable.

Matt eventually dipped beneath the surface completely before resurfacing with water slicking back his hair. “Okay,” he announced, “if we survive this mountain, I am demanding civilization. Preferably somewhere with hot water that comes from pipes instead of cursed rocks.”

Theron glanced at him. “You object to the cursed rocks?”

“I object to anything described as cursed being part of my hygiene routine.”

Theron considered that. “Fair.”

Matt smiled. “See? Personal growth.”

Theron shook his head faintly.

Matt studied him for a moment afterward, the teasing softening gradually into something more careful. “You look tired.”

Theron considered denying it. Instead, he answered honestly. “I am.”

Matt stepped closer before reaching toward him slow enough to give Theron time to pull away if he wished. Theron did not. Matt’s fingers brushed lightly across a healing cut near Theron’s shoulder. “This reopened.”

“It is nothing.”

“That’s never reassuring when you say it.”

Matt moved behind him then, dipping a cloth into the warm water before gently working it across the blood dried along Theron’s upper back where one of the creatures in the tunnels had managed to rake claws through his clothing earlier during the descent.

The simple act of being cared for unsettled him far more than the touch itself. For too many years, every hand laid on him had brought violence, injury, or obligation. Kindness felt far more dangerous than desire ever had. Matt must have sensed it because his movements gradually slowed. “You really aren’t used to someone taking care of you, are you?” he asked softly.

Theron stared toward the waterfall ahead of them. “No.”

The answer came quieter than intended. For several seconds, Matt said nothing at all. Then the cloth moved gently across another scrape near Theron’s ribs, careful despite the strength in his hands. “You don’t always have to survive everything alone,” Matt murmured.