Page 83 of The Hyena’s Guardian

Something in Theron tightened painfully at the words.

He turned in the water until they faced one another again. Steam drifted between them in thin pale ribbons while the dim crystal light reflected softly across the surface of the pool. Matt’s hand still rested lightly against his side. Neither of them moved away.

Theron lowered his gaze briefly toward the water before reaching up and brushing damp fingers carefully along Matt’s jaw. The touch felt almost hesitant despite his size and strength.

Matt leaned into it. The trust in that small motion nearly undid him.

“You make it very difficult to pretend I do not need you,” Theron admitted.

Matt’s expression softened. “Good.”

Theron huffed the faintest laugh.

Then Matt kissed him with gentle, steady affection wrapped carefully around growing desire.

Theron kissed him back with far less restraint than before. One of Matt’s hands slid against the back of his neck while the other settled against Theron’s chest beneath the water. Heat spread sharply through Theron at the contact, stronger now without fear and adrenaline clouding everything between them.

When they finally pulled apart, Matt rested his forehead lightly against his. “You know,” Matt whispered, smiling faintly, “this is still objectively the weirdest date I’ve ever been on.”

And for the first time in a very long time, Theron laughed without forcing it. The sound echoed off the cave walls, rich and surprised, like something that had been locked in his chest so long it did not recognize the way out. Matt’s grin widened, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and he pressed his forehead harder against Theron’s as though he wanted to memorize the feel of it.

“There it is,” Matt murmured.

Theron’s laugh faded into something softer, a smile that did not quite know what to do with itself. His hand was still on Matt’s jaw, thumb tracing a slow path along the bone there, mapping territory he had never expected to claim.

“I forgot what that felt like,” Theron said. His voice came rough, stripped of armor. “Forgot it could feel like that.”

Matt’s hand slid from Theron’s chest up to his shoulder, fingers curling into the curve where neck met muscle.

“You’ve got more of those in you.”

Theron shook his head, but the smile stayed. “You don’t know that.”

“I do.” Matt’s thumb pressed lightly against the pulse at Theron’s throat. “I heard one. I’m going to hear another.”

Something flickered in Theron’s chest, a ghost of the old habit that told him to pull back before wanting became too loud. But his hand stayed on Matt’s jaw. His forehead stayed pressed to Matt’s. Water lapped at their chests as they drifted in the stillness. Steam rose around them, catching the low light, and somewhere above, a single drop of water fell from the cave ceiling and struck the pool with a sound like a held breath released.

Theron’s fingers slid from Matt’s jaw into his hair, threading through the damp strands. “I don’t know what to do with my hands,” he admitted, quiet, almost embarrassed.

Matt caught his wrist, brought it up, and pressed a kiss to the inside of it, right where the pulse beat close to the surface. “Anything you want.”

Theron’s breath stuttered. His eyes stayed on the spot Matt’s lips had touched, as though he was watching something come alive there. “No one’s ever.” He stopped, swallowed, and started again. “I don’t know how to be touched like this. Like I’m something worth being gentle with.”

Matt’s grip on his wrist tightened, just barely. “You are.”

Theron studied him. Water beaded on Matt’s shoulders, warmth held steady in those brown eyes, and there was no hesitation in the way Matt held his gaze. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you look at me like that?” Theron’s voice cracked on the last word, and he did not try to hide it. “Like I’m not—like I haven’t spent years being—”

He broke off, jaw working. Matt waited. His thumb traced slow circles on Theron’s wrist.

“I’ve hurt people,” Theron said. The words fell heavy into the space between them. “I’ve done things I can’t take back. There’s blood on my hands. Real blood. And you just—” His voice broke. “You kissed me like I was clean.”

The cave seemed to hold its breath as the water settled around them, still and warm. Matt’s hand left Theron’s wrist and rose carefully, giving him time to pull away before settling against his cheek, palm cupping the sharp angle of his jaw.

“I don’t need you to be clean,” Matt said. “I need you to be here.”