The world outside is cruel, but here, in his arms, there is only warmth. Only safety.

Bane holds you as if you are something rare, something he was never meant to have. His hands, strong enough to break men, trail gently down your back, his touch reverent. When he speaks, his voice is quieter than you’ve ever heard it.

“You calm the storm within me,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. “With you, there is no war. No battle to fight.”

His thumb brushes over your lips, lingering as if memorizing the softness of you. He watches you with an intensity that makes your heart race, but there is no danger in his gaze—only devotion.

“I have known only strength, only survival,” he breathes. “But with you, I wish to be gentle.”