Dominik POV
For a moment, I remained exactly where I was, her weight steady in my arms, her breathing soft against my chest. The forest had gone quiet again, as if everything that had just happened had been swallowed back into the night, leaving nothing behind but the two of us and the echo of something neither of us fully understood. I adjusted my hold slightly, careful of her ankle, making sure it remained supported as I shifted her closer. She didn't stir. Whatever had taken hold of her had pulled her too far under for that.
My gaze lifted briefly, scanning the trees one last time before I moved. There was nothing left here that needed my attention, nothing lingering that would dare come near her now. So I lifted my head and called to my goddess.
A path revealed itself, not in sight, but in certainty. I followed it without hesitation, carrying her through the forest with steady, deliberate steps. I didn't rush, though every instinct urged me to move faster, to put more distance between her and what had already tried to take her. The terrain shifted beneath my feet, branches snapping softly, leaves brushing against my skin as I moved through the darkness with ease.
She stirred sooner than I expected, and I felt it before I saw it.
At first, it was nothing more than a slight shift in her weight, a subtle change in the way her body rested against mine, but it was enough to pull my full attention back to her. Her breathing altered, no longer as deep or distant, and I knew immediately that whatever had pulled her under was beginning to loosen its hold. Awareness was returning, slow and uneven, working its way back through her in a way that told me she wasn't ready for it yet.
"She'll wake," I murmured to Nyx.
I adjusted my hold instinctively, tightening my arm just slightly beneath her knees while steadying her back more securely against my chest. The movement was careful, deliberate, meant to support rather than restrain, to keep her from jostling her injury or slipping too quickly into full consciousness before her body could handle it. The warmth of her settled more clearly against me now, no longer just the passive presence of someone unconscious, but something active, something aware, and it anchored my focus in a way I had not prepared for.
She shifted again, her head moving faintly against me as if she were trying to find her bearings. I could feel the confusion before I saw it, the tension beginning to return in small, fragile increments as her mind struggled to catch up with her body. I kept my gaze forward, forcing myself not to look down at her, not to meet her eyes even when I knew they had opened. If I allowed that moment, if I let myself fully acknowledge her awareness, I knew it would make what came next harder than it already was.
Her attention settled on me anyway.
I felt it in the way her body stilled just slightly, in the faint tightening of her grip against me, in the quiet shift of her breathing as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing.
"What..?" The question came softly, her voice unsteady and incomplete, shaped more by confusion than clarity, but I understood it all the same. She didn't know where she was. She didn't know how she had gotten there. She didn't know who I was.
I gave her nothing in return.
There were no words I could offer that would not complicate what she was already trying to process, nothing I could say that would not anchor this moment in a way she was not ready to face. So I remained silent, keeping my pace steady, my movements controlled, as if this were nothing out of the ordinary, as if carrying her through the forest in the middle of the night required no explanation at all.
Her awareness lingered only briefly. I could feel it slipping even as she tried to hold onto it, her body too weak, too overwhelmed to sustain it. The tension eased from her again, her weight settling more fully against me as whatever fragile grasp she had on consciousness gave way. Her head rested against my chest once more, her breathing evening out, and I knew she was gone again.
I did not slow after that.
The rest of the distance passed in quiet, the forest gradually thinning as the structure of her world began to take shape around us. The shift was always noticeable, the natural rhythm of the woods giving way to something more controlled, more contained, and I felt it the closer I brought her to it. This was where she belonged, not the place I had found her.
I followed the pull until it stopped, until I stood at the edge of her home with her still in my arms. For a moment, I allowed myself to look at her fully, taking in the softness of her expression now that the fear had left it, the quiet steadiness of her breathing, the way she seemed untouched by everything that had happened only minutes before. Nyx and I reveled in our mate's beauty. So perfect, so soft.
Reluctantly, I stepped forward and lowered her onto the porch, moving with controlled precision to ensure her ankle remained supported and her body undisturbed. My hands lingered only long enough to adjust her position, to make sure she would not wake in pain or confusion without some measure of stability beneath her.
She stirred faintly again, not fully waking, but enough to remind me that she would not remain like this for long. I stepped back, my chest aching with her absence.
The distance settled between us immediately, necessary and unwelcome all at once. I knew I could not stay, knew that remaining here would only complicate something that required time and space to unfold the way it was meant to. She did not understand what she was to me, and forcing that understanding onto her before she was ready would do more harm than good.
Even if leaving felt wrong.
I turned toward the door and knocked once, firm enough to be heard, but controlled enough not to startle her. Then I waited, listening as movement stirred inside, as voices approached, close enough now to ensure she would not be left alone.
That was all I needed.
I did not stay to see the door open. By the time it did, I was already gone, the distance between us closing in seconds as I returned to the night, to the place where I could exist without disrupting the life she had yet to realize was no longer entirely her own.
But even as I left, the connection remained. And I knew it would not fade.