Chapter 12: The Veil Thins

"Say it," Seo-jun whispered.

"I can't."

"Then show me."

They stood in the middle of the guest suite, with the door barred and a lamp burning low.

Seo-jun's hands rested on Min-jun's shoulders, very lightly.

Min-jun could not speak the word.

The seal would close on him if he tried.

So he took Seo-jun's right hand in both of his and slid it inside his open robe.

He laid it flat on the lower part of his belly.

Seo-jun's breath stopped.

Under his palm, there was only warm skin and the faint hard curve of the muscle.

But he knew it.

He had known it since the gallery, when Ren asked him, at the gallery window, what his husband carried.

"It's true," he said. His voice cracked. "It's real."

"Yes."

"How long?"

Min-jun held up four fingers, the weeks since the first heat.

"Four weeks," Seo-jun said. "Four weeks, and you rode through the pass. You fought on the bridge."

"I'm well."

"You were sick every morning for a week and you fought nine men!"

"I'm very well," Min-jun said again, and his mouth tugged at the corner. "Seo-jun, I'm smiling. Look."

Seo-jun looked.

Min-jun's lashes were wet, and his smile was small and shaking and enormous.

"I'm afraid," Seo-jun said.

"So am I."

"What if I do it wrong?"

"You've never done anything wrong in your life."

"That isn't true. I've done a great many things wrong." He kissed Min-jun's forehead, then his temple. "I've been asleep for six years."

"Not any more."

"No. Not any more."

His hand slid lower, and found the crescent mark, which still glowed faintly, and Min-jun gasped.

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