Alessandro woke slowly, the heavy pull of sleep loosening as warm sunlight filtered through his eyelids. The first thing he registered was the weight across his chest—Sage’s head tucked under his chin, one arm slung loosely over his waist, fingers resting just above the steady thud of his heart. The second was the faint ache in his own shoulders from Sage’s nails the night before, a reminder that grounded him firmly in the present.

Then the memory of the nightmare crashed back—the cold press of steel, Sage’s sharp inhale, the terror in his own veins. His body tensed involuntarily, breath catching. But Sage was still there, warm and breathing evenly against him, unharmed. The bond hummed soft and steady between them, no trace of fear or pain, only quiet contentment.

He exhaled shakily, forcing the guilt down. Sage hadn’t pulled away. Hadn’t flinched this morning. Had, instead, burrowed closer, hiding his face against Alessandro’s chest with a muffled groan that sounded more like sore-muscle protest than anything darker.

Carefully, Alessandro shifted just enough to look down at him. Sage’s dark hair was a wild tangle across his forehead, lips slightly parted, the fresh mark on his neck vivid against pale skin. His fingers were tracing it absently, a small, private smile curving his mouth.

Something fierce and tender swelled in Alessandro’s chest until it hurt. This man—his mate—had seen him at his most broken last night and chosen to stay curled against him anyway. Had let Alessandro touch the mark again and again as if to say it’s all right, I’m still here.

“Buongiorno, tesoro,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep and lingering emotion. He brushed his thumb gently over the bite, then down Sage’s jaw, tilting his face up. “How are you feeling? Be honest—every muscle, every ache. I need to know what you need.”

He could smell the faint remnants of yesterday still clinging to both of them—sweat, sex, slick—and knew Sage had to be uncomfortable. Could feel the low, satisfied warmth of the heat lingering in the bond, banked but not gone.

“I can carry you to the bath,” he offered quietly, already sliding one arm beneath Sage’s knees in preparation. “Hot water, more salts. Then breakfast in bed—something light, fruit and yogurt, whatever your stomach can handle. You don’t have to move a muscle if you don’t want to.”

He pressed his lips to Sage’s forehead, lingering there, breathing him in. “You were tracing the mark,” he said softly, a hint of wonder in his tone. “Does it feel… right? Like it belongs there?”

Because God knew it felt right to him—like a piece he hadn’t realized was missing had finally clicked into place. He’d spend the rest of his life making sure Sage never regretted letting him put it there. A small, rueful smile tugged at his mouth. “So tell me what you need, amore. Let me take care of you today.”

Alessandro felt the last knot of tension in his chest loosen when Sage peered up at him with that sleepy, forgiving smile and asked if he felt better. The concern in those pinched brows—directed at him, not because of him—was almost too much after last night. He didn’t deserve it, but God, he’d spend every day trying to.

“Morning, amore,” he murmured, brushing his thumb across Sage’s cheek. The soft admission that he felt like he’d been run over by a freight train drew a low, rueful laugh from Alessandro’s throat. “I’ll take the blame for that,” he said, voice warm with affection. “But I’m glad it worked. Glad I could give you what you needed.”

He slid his arms beneath Sage carefully—one behind his shoulders, the other under his knees—and lifted him as if he weighed nothing. Sage’s chuckle vibrated against his chest, and Alessandro pressed a kiss to his temple as he carried him toward the en-suite.

“You’re starving, I’m starving, and yes, we’re both getting cleaned up first,” he agreed, stepping into the bathroom and nudging the door shut with his heel. He set Sage gently on the wide marble edge of the tub, keeping one steadying hand on his waist while he turned on the taps. Hot water thundered in, steam rising quickly, and he poured in a generous handful of the same muscle-soothing salts as yesterday, the scent of cedar and bergamot filling the air.

Only when he was satisfied with the temperature did he turn back, catching Sage’s pointed look and the quiet instruction to take care of himself too. Alessandro paused, something soft and unguarded flickering across his face.

“I will,” he promised, voice low. “But right now, taking care of you is taking care of me.” He brushed a knuckle along Sage’s jaw. “Let me have this, tesoro. Let me look after you properly.”

He helped Sage ease into the water, climbing in behind him once he was settled, pulling Sage back against his chest exactly like yesterday. The heat enveloped them both, and Alessandro let out a slow breath as sore muscles of his own began to unwind. His hands moved instinctively— one sliding around Sage’s waist to anchor him, the other reaching for the shampoo.

Sage’s quiet admission—It still feels like a dream—made Alessandro’s heart clench. He leaned forward, lips brushing the fresh mark on Sage’s neck with deliberate tenderness.

“It’s real,” he whispered against the raised skin, feeling Sage shiver. “You’re mine. I’m yours. And I’m not waking up from this.” He worked the shampoo into Sage’s hair slowly, nails scraping gently over his scalp. “The mark looks perfect on you. Feels perfect through the bond. Every time your heart beats a little faster, I feel it. Every time you’re content like this… I feel that too.”

He rinsed the suds carefully, tilting Sage’s head back under the handheld spray, shielding his eyes with one palm. “We’ll eat soon,” he continued softly. “I’ll bring everything in here if you want—fruit, yogurt, fresh cornetti from the bakery down the hill. Then back to bed. Or the sofa by the window if you want sunlight. Whatever you need.”

His hands slid down to knead gently at Sage’s shoulders, working out the knots with steady pressure. “And tonight,” he added, voice dropping to something huskier, “if the heat stirs again, I’ll be right here. Gentle or rough—your choice. But always safe. Always yours.”

He pressed one more lingering kiss to the mark, breathing Sage in, letting the bond settle warm and certain between them.

“Thank you,” he murmured, echoing Sage’s quiet thanks from earlier. “For trusting me. For staying. For letting me love you like this.”

Alessandro felt the quiet surrender in Sage’s body the moment he sank into the water—muscles unclenching, that relieved exhale brushing warm against his chest like forgiveness made audible. The soft laugh, the gentle accusation of spoiling him too much, only made Alessandro’s arms tighten a fraction around Sage’s waist, possessive and protective in equal measure.

“You deserve to be spoiled,” he murmured against the damp skin just below Sage’s ear, lips lingering there. “Every day. For the rest of our lives, if you let me.”

Sage settled back against him fully, warm and pliant, and Alessandro let himself sink into the simple, perfect intimacy of it—skin to skin, water lapping gently around them, the faint scent of cedar rising with the steam. His fingers worked slowly through Sage’s hair, massaging shampoo into his scalp with deliberate care, feeling the tension melt away strand by strand.

When Sage reached for the conditioner himself, Alessandro’s mouth curved in quiet amusement. He took the bottle without a word, pouring a generous amount into his palm and working it through the dark lengths with the same reverence he’d shown every other part of Sage’s body. Sage clipped his hair up a moment later, exposing the long, elegant line of his neck and the fresh mark that still stood out vivid against his skin. Alessandro couldn’t resist—he brushed his thumb over it again, feeling the bond flare warm and bright at the contact.

The soft grunt Sage gave when Alessandro’s hands dug into the knots at his shoulders went straight to his gut. He pressed deeper, steady and sure, working out every ache he’d put there himself, guilt and pride tangled together. Sage let him, head tipping forward slightly, trusting him completely. The love pouring through the bond was almost too much—steady, fierce, unshaken even after last night.

Sage’s quiet words—I’ve got plenty of my own demons you’ve helped me with—settled over Alessandro like a balm he hadn’t known he needed. His hands stilled for a heartbeat, then resumed with renewed tenderness, sliding down to knead along Sage’s upper arms.

“You’re too good for me,” he said, voice low and rough with emotion. “But I’m keeping you anyway.”

He leaned forward, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the mark, then another just below it, tasting warm skin and the faint trace of salt. “Thank you,” he whispered against Sage’s neck. “For seeing me—all of me—and staying. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, tesoro, but I’ll spend every day proving I’m worthy of it.”

His hands moved lower, tracing idle patterns along Sage’s collarbone, then back up to cradle his jaw, tilting his head gently so he could brush a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“We’ll stay in here until the water cools,” he promised quietly. “Until you’re loose and warm and every ache is gone. Then I’ll carry you back to bed, feed you every bite of breakfast myself if you let me. And tonight, tomorrow, every day after—I’ll keep showing you that you’re safe with me. Demons and all.”

He rested his chin lightly on Sage’s shoulder, breathing him in, letting the bond sing steady and true between them.

“I love you,” he said simply, the words falling soft into the steam. “More than I know how to say. But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying.”

Alessandro’s fingers stilled for a heartbeat in Sage’s hair when those three words fell from his lips—soft, steady, like they’d always belonged there. I love you too. Simple. Devastating. His chest tightened with something fierce and tender, the kind of feeling he’d never allowed himself to name until Sage had come along and rewritten every rule he thought he knew.

He resumed working the conditioner through the dark strands, slow and deliberate, thumbs pressing gentle circles at the base of Sage’s skull just to feel him melt a little more under his hands. The steam curled around them, warm and thick, but nothing compared to the heat of Sage’s body leaning back against him, trusting, pliant, alive.

“You keep saying that,” Alessandro murmured, lips brushing the shell of Sage’s ear as he tilted his head just enough to expose the fresh claim mark. “That I’m spoiling you. That I’m doing so much.” His voice was low, rough with affection. “You have no idea, piccolo. Taking care of you like this—washing your hair, easing the ache in your shoulders, feeding you in bed—it’s not a chore. It’s a fucking privilege.”

He turned Sage’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers tighter, bringing their joined hands to his lips so he could press a slow kiss to Sage’s knuckles. “You think Casper’s ghost is the bar I’m measured against? He never even cleared the floor. You’re the standard now. The only one.”

Alessandro let his free hand drift down, tracing the line of Sage’s throat, thumb settling possessively over the bite as water sluiced over them both. “Breakfast in bed,” he agreed, voice a quiet promise. “I’ll bring you whatever you want—eggs, fruit, those little pastries you pretend not to devour. Then we’ll spend the day exactly like this: tangled up, nowhere to be, nothing to do but let me touch you however I want. Lazy kisses, slow hands, your head in my lap while I read or watch you nap. Whatever you need.”

He leaned in, mouth grazing the mark again, teeth scraping just enough to make Sage shiver. “And tonight, when the next wave comes, I’ll be right here. Inside you, around you, reminding you over and over who you belong to—who you chose.”

He turned Sage’s face gently toward him, water dripping from both of them, and kissed him slow and deep—claiming, reverent, pouring every unspoken thing into it.

“I love you,” he said again against Sage’s lips, the words rougher this time, like they’d been dragged from somewhere deep. “And I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving I deserve to hear it back.”

Then he smiled—small, rare, real—and reached for the showerhead to rinse the conditioner away, hands gentle, eyes never leaving Sage’s face.

“Together,” he echoed quietly. “Always together.”

Alessandro’s fingers stilled for a heartbeat in Sage’s hair when those three words fell from his lips—soft, steady, like they’d always belonged there. I love you too. Simple. Devastating. His chest tightened with something fierce and tender, the kind of feeling he’d never allowed himself to name until Sage had come along and rewritten every rule he thought he knew.

He resumed working the conditioner through the dark strands, slow and deliberate, thumbs pressing gentle circles at the base of Sage’s skull just to feel him melt a little more under his hands. The steam curled around them, warm and thick, but nothing compared to the heat of Sage’s body leaning back against him, trusting, pliant, alive.

“You keep saying that,” Alessandro murmured, lips brushing the shell of Sage’s ear as he tilted his head just enough to expose the fresh claim mark. “That I’m spoiling you. That I’m doing so much.” His voice was low, rough with affection. “You have no idea, piccolo. Taking care of you like this—washing your hair, easing the ache in your shoulders, feeding you in bed—it’s not a chore. It’s a fucking privilege.”

He turned Sage’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers tighter, bringing their joined hands to his lips so he could press a slow kiss to Sage’s knuckles. “You think Casper’s ghost is the bar I’m measured against? He never even cleared the floor. You’re the standard now. The only one.”

Alessandro let his free hand drift down, tracing the line of Sage’s throat, thumb settling possessively over the bite as water sluiced over them both. “Breakfast in bed,” he agreed, voice a quiet promise. “I’ll bring you whatever you want—eggs, fruit, those little pastries you pretend not to devour. Then we’ll spend the day exactly like this: tangled up, nowhere to be, nothing to do but let me touch you however I want. Lazy kisses, slow hands, your head in my lap while I read or watch you nap. Whatever you need.”

He leaned in, mouth grazing the mark again, teeth scraping just enough to make Sage shiver. “And tonight, when the next wave comes, I’ll be right here. Inside you, around you, reminding you over and over who you belong to—who you chose.”

He turned Sage’s face gently toward him, water dripping from both of them, and kissed him slow and deep—claiming, reverent, pouring every unspoken thing into it.

“I love you,” he said again against Sage’s lips, the words rougher this time, like they’d been dragged from somewhere deep. “And I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving I deserve to hear it back.”

Then he smiled—small, rare, real—and reached for the showerhead to rinse the conditioner away, hands gentle, eyes never leaving Sage’s face.

“Together,” he echoed quietly. “Always together.”