Gods.
I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
He ran a hand through his long damp hair and pushed it back from his face. It clung to his neck like silk that had made a vow to never dry. The robe he wore was black. Simple. But on him it lookedlike a war priest’s mantle, something ceremonial and lethal all at once.
And he wouldn’t stop walking.
He kept coming.
One slow, maddening step at a time, until my back hit the wardrobe I’d just crawled out of.
He stopped inches in front of me—close enough that if he leaned just a little more, I wouldn’t be able to breathe without inhaling his soul.
“It’s astounding,” he said quietly, “how you really have no sense of danger.”
My brows pulled together. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
His hand lifted so slowly I had time to flinch but didn’t. He reached for my face and gently brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, the pads of his fingers grazing the curve of my cheek like they were reading it in braille.
“Whatever you think.”
He was staring at my hair with a kind of attention I might have used if I were inspecting something forbidden from human’s touch. His fingers lingered behind my ear, not quite touching anymore, but not falling away either. My lungs tightened, the fresh air I’d stolen earlier already gone, replaced by something heady and warm.
Then his eyes lowered and locked with mine.
My body went numb.
The room could have gone up in flames and I wouldn’t have broken eye contact.
His gaze dipped again...
Down to my mouth.
I felt the weight of it like a thumb dragging across my bottom lip. He didn’t move, but the effect of his eyes was dizzying, my lips suddenly feeling too full, too dry and too aware.
I parted them slightly, a breath escaping without my permission. His eyes didn’t leave. If anything, they darkened, as though that one breath had fiddled with his buttons.
The urge to wet my lips surged, wild and needy, followed by the stupid, reckless impulse to distract him.
“My question for the day,” I blurted.
His lids lifted, slow and languid, as a deephmmrumbled in his throat. His Adam’s apple moved with it, sliding up and down.
“Why don’t you have a shadow?” I asked. Then, quickly—“And yes, I know it was taken. By who?”
His finger brushed back another strand of hair, gradually easing to the back of my head. “Selvanyra.”
The name didn’t hit at first, it drifted past me because I wasn’t completely focused on his response but rather what was going on between us. But then it echoed...bounced...landed.
Selvanyra...?
My brows shot up. “What? Selvanyra... like the moon?”
“Yes.”
“Are you serious? This isn’t a joke. You’re meant to answer my questionstruthfully.”
His gaze dipped again—to my lips. “You’re choosing not to believe me.”
