"It's so strange," she murmured.
"What is?"
Tula turned to face him, still holding the figurine. "That I feel like you know me better than even my captivity sisters, who have been with me for thousands of years. Not even Areana, who was the closest to me, saw me this clearly." Her blue eyes searched his face. "How is that possible?"
Esag's throat went dry. He could deflect, make a joke, keep things light and safe, or he could tell her what he really thought.
"Because it was fated," he said quietly.
Tula went very still. "Fated."
"The dreams. The visions. The way I was carving your likeness, no matter who else I was trying to depict." Esag took a step closer, his heart pounding so hard he was sure she could hear it. "And the way I feel when I look at you. Like everything in my life has been leading up to this moment."
"Esag—"
"I know I have no right," he continued, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "I know I hurt your sister and you in the process. I know I'm the last person you should think of as a potential for anything. But I can't pretend that I don't feel this." He put his hand over his heart. "Whatever this is."
Tula returned the figurine to its spot on the shelf and turned to him. "I feel it too."
The admission hit him in the chest like a battering ram. "You do?"
"Yes." She took a step toward him, closing the distance between them. "And it scares me because it makes no sense, and I like for things to make sense, and I'm afraid that I'm not thinking straight because pregnancy hormones are making me stupid and emotional."
"You might be emotional, but never stupid." Esag reached out, his hand hovering near her face, not quite touching. "And you are incredibly brave and loyal. You were offered freedom years ago and chose to remain in captivity to stand by Areana's side. Not many people would have done that."
She let out a breath. "I can't stop thinking about you." She looked up at him. "How is that for being brave? I can't stop wondering about that mystical connection we shared and what it means. I can't stop wanting?—"
She broke off, her eyes dropping to his lips.
Esag was suddenly hyperaware of everything—the warmth of her body so close to his, the subtle scent of her shampoo, the way her pulse fluttered at her throat.
Slowly, he brought his hand up to brush his knuckles against her cheek.
She didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her eyes closing briefly.
It was all the permission he needed.
Esag dipped his head, bringing his lips to within a fraction of an inch of hers. Close enough that he could feel her breath, warm against his mouth. Close enough that the slightest movementwould close the gap between them. But he waited, giving her the chance to back away if she didn't want this.
Tula opened her eyes, looked at him with an expression so open and vulnerable it was devastating, and closed the distance herself. Her lips were soft against his. Tentative at first, questioning, as if she wasn't entirely sure this was really happening.
Esag kept the kiss gentle, his hand cradling her face like she was something precious and breakable, because she was. Because despite her strength and her survival and her five thousand years of endurance, right now, in this moment, she was trusting him with something fragile.
She made a small sound in the back of her throat and lifted her arms, wrapping them around his neck and holding him to her.
The kiss deepened. Became less tentative, more certain. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and Esag's free arm came around her waist, pulling her closer.
She fit against him perfectly, her pregnant belly pressed between them, a reminder of all the complications that came with it. But Esag didn't care. Couldn't care. Not when she was kissing him like he was the air she needed to save herself from drowning.
When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, lost for words.
What was he supposed to say?
"That was—" he started.
"A mistake," Tula finished, but she didn't pull away. "Probably a huge mistake."
He shook his head. "Never."
