I change into pajamas while he's in the bathroom. I can hear the water running, imagine him under the spray, letting the heat work on his aching muscles and the wound in his side.
When he emerges twenty minutes later, he looks slightly better but still exhausted. There are dark circles under his eyes. The stitches in his side are angry and red.
"Come here," I say, patting the bed.
He crosses to me, and I expect him to lie down. Instead, he kneels on the floor in front of me.
I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, and suddenly he's at eye level with my stomach. He wraps his arms around my waist, rests his head gently against where our baby is growing.
"Axel?"
"Just let me stay like this for a minute."
His voice is muffled against my stomach, rough with exhaustion and something else. Something vulnerable.
I thread my fingers through his damp hair, and he makes a sound deep in his chest. Almost a groan.
"That feels good," he murmurs.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Don't stop."
I keep going, gently massaging his scalp, running my fingers through the silver strands. He melts into the touch, his whole body relaxing.
"I could stay here forever," he says quietly. "Just like this. You, me, and the baby. Nothing else matters."
My heart clenches. "Long day?"
"Long week. Long month." His arms tighten slightly around my waist. "I'm so tired, Aurora. Tired of fighting. Tired of watching for threats. Tired of being afraid I'm going to lose you."
"You're not going to lose me."
"You don't know that. Tonight proved it. If I hadn't moved you to my room, if you'd still been in the south wing when they planted those explosives..." He doesn't finish.
"But I wasn't. I'm here. We're both here."
"For now. But someone tried to kill you. Tried to kill our baby. And I still don't know who's behind all of this."
I keep stroking his hair, feeling the tension in his shoulders. "You'll figure it out. You always do."
"What if I don't? What if I can't protect you?"
"Then we'll figure it out together. But Axel, you can't carry all of this alone. You're going to break under the weight."
"I'm already breaking." The admission is so quiet I almost miss it. "I'm terrified every second. That someone will get through my defenses. That I'll make a mistake. That I'll fail you."
"You haven't failed me. You saved me that night at the club. You got me out of the engagement to Leo. You've given me purpose and partnership and..." I stop, the words I really want to say catching in my throat.
I love you.
But I can't say it. Not when he's this vulnerable, this exhausted. It would feel like taking advantage.
"And what?" he asks, looking up at me.
"And a chance at happiness. Real happiness, not just survival."
Something shifts in his expression. He stands, cradling my face in his hands.