Chapter 92: Dressed
He did not speak again, but his hold on her tightened as he buried his face deeper in her neck. When Erik's breathing had regulated and his muscles had relaxed, Mya kissed his hair and ran her fingers through the strands, working to untangle the ones matted with blood. When she had finished, she kissed his head, his temple, the corner of his eye. She breathed in his scent, basked in his warmth, and even though so much had transpired in such a few short hours, her heart glowed with the knowledge that he here, in her arms.
Erik was her home, and she wanted nothing more than to be the same for him, but she knew she could not give him what he needed most: forgiveness. Her words could never replace those of the people he killed, but perhaps her touch could help soothe his pain, even for a moment.