Hells diary

Chapter Thirteen

The First Kiss

Third person pov

The palace was quiet, the walls humming with the faint echo of distant storms.
Thane stood by the bed, half in shadow, half in moonlight. His gaze lingered on Gage—the small, pale figure wrapped in silk and calm. For a creature forged in fire and blood, the sight was almost unbearable.

He took a breath, rough and uneven. “You’re so innocent,” he said quietly. “Too good for the world that made me. I’ve already hurt you once, Gage… I don’t want to do it again.”

Gage looked up, confusion soft in his eyes. “You didn’t mean to,” he whispered.

“That doesn’t matter,” Thane replied. His hand hovered, uncertain, before finally brushing against Gage’s cheek. “I don’t know how to touch something fragile without breaking it.”

The silence stretched between them—thick, trembling, alive. Then, in a voice gentler than his own heartbeat, Thane asked,
“May I kiss you?”

Gage’s lips parted; a faint smile curved them. “You may.”

Thane bent slowly, as if the air itself might shatter. Their lips met—soft at first, searching, tasting. The kiss carried no urgency, only the trembling honesty of two souls afraid to lose what they’d just found.

Gage’s fingers clutched at Thane’s shirt. The faint hum of thunder outside made the moment feel even smaller, more private, suspended in time.

When Thane pulled back, his breath ghosted against Gage’s throat. He pressed a light kiss there—then another, lower, each one slower, more reverent than the last. His touch traced the line of Gage’s neck, not claiming, just learning.

Gage tilted his head back slightly, eyes fluttering shut, trusting him completely.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” Thane murmured against his skin.

“You won’t,” Gage whispered.

Thane smiled—barely. “You don’t know what I am.”

“I know who you are,” Gage answered, voice small but certain.

Thane’s eyes closed. For a heartbeat, all the darkness inside him went quiet.
He drew Gage closer, resting his forehead against his shoulder, breathing him in—the scent of warmth and peace he never thought he’d deserve.

No fire. No hunger.
Just quiet touches, and the slow discovery of something close to love.

...

Gage’s breath trembled against Thane’s neck, and for a long moment, neither of them moved. The world outside the room felt impossibly distant—like it didn’t exist at all.

Thane’s fingers traced slow, unsure paths along Gage’s arm, memorizing the feel of his skin as though it were sacred. Every small touch made Gage’s pulse flutter beneath his fingertips, and the sound of it—it made something deep inside Thane ache.

He had never been this close to peace.

Gage’s voice broke the silence. “You’re shaking again,” he whispered, lifting his head just enough to meet Thane’s eyes.

Thane swallowed hard. “Because this feels… wrong,” he said softly, “and right at the same time. I don’t know how to handle that.”

Gage smiled faintly, his cheeks tinted pink. “Then don’t handle it. Just feel it.”

Thane exhaled, the sound heavy with emotion. His hand came up, brushing through Gage’s white hair before sliding down to cup the side of his face. He leaned forward and kissed him again—slower, deeper, the kind of kiss that asked for nothing but presence.

When he finally pulled away, his lips lingered against Gage’s temple. “You’re trembling now,” he murmured.

“I’m not afraid,” Gage whispered. “I just… don’t know how to breathe when you look at me like that.”

Thane’s lips curved faintly against his skin. “Then I’ll stop looking.”

But he didn’t.

Instead, he pressed another kiss to Gage’s throat—soft and deliberate. Gage’s hands clutched lightly at his shoulders, his breath catching when Thane’s lips brushed the hollow of his neck.

Each touch was careful, each kiss slower than the last. It wasn’t about desire—it was about learning what it meant to be gentle.

Thane drew back only far enough to look at him. His expression was raw, stripped of the usual arrogance and composure. “I’ve fought so many things,” he said quietly, “but nothing has ever terrified me more than this… than you.”

Gage smiled, small and trembling. “Then we’re both terrified.”

Thane’s laughter—soft, almost human—filled the quiet. He kissed him once more, a lingering brush of lips that promised patience and trust instead of urgency.

When they finally lay down, Gage curled against him, fitting perfectly beneath Thane’s arm. The storm outside had quieted, leaving only the steady rhythm of their breathing.

Thane’s fingers moved in slow circles on Gage’s back. “Sleep, little one,” he whispered. “I’ll be here.”

Gage’s eyelids fluttered. “You promise?”

Thane’s gaze softened, the demon inside him silent for once. “On my soul.”

And for the first time in a very long life, Thane meant every word.