When he finally looks at me, there's something raw in his green eyes. Vulnerable in a way that makes my chest ache.
I step into his space slowly—not to take, but to offer.
"You don't have to say anything," I whisper. "I just wanted you to know—before we go." I reach up, my fingers barely brushing his jaw. "You belong. To us. To me."
His breath catches.
And then I rise onto my toes and kiss him—not because I’m overwhelmed, but because Imean it. Because I want him tofeelit.
He doesn’t move at first. Doesn’t even breathe.
Then slowly, carefully, his hand finds my waist.
And he kisses me back like it’s the first real thing he’s been given in a long, long time.
I feel the mist gather around us, low and slow, not flaring—just folding inward like it wants to hold the moment still. Like it knows this matters.
When I pull back, Jace stares at me like he’s seeing something he didn’t know he was allowed to hope for.
"What was that for?" he asks. Not defensive—just raw. Honest.
"So you wouldn't forget," I answer.
His thumb brushes across my cheek, so gentle it almost breaks me.
"Forget what?"
"That you matter. That you're not expendable. That you're—" My voice catches. "That you're everything."
Something shifts in his expression—surprise giving way to something deeper. Something that looks like relief.
"Bree..."
But I'm already stepping back, my heart full and aching all at once. The moment feels complete somehow, like a promise I needed to make before everything changes.
"Come on," I say, turning toward the house. "We should probably start breakfast before the others wake up."
Jace follows, his footsteps quiet on the grass behind me. When I reach the door, I feel his fingers brush mine—tentative, hopeful. I don't pull away. Instead, I lace our fingers together, and his breath catches like he can't quite believe I'm letting him.
The mist trails behind us, peaceful now. Content.
Some bonds don't come from blood or magic or scars. Some are quieter than that. But no less real.
And sometimes the only way to say it is with a kiss you don't expect—
—and don't want to live without.
Chapter 18
Jace
She kissed me.
The thought loops through my head on a constant reel, like background music set toyes pleaseon repeat.
Bree kissed me.
Not some in-the-heat, barely-thinking kiss—but slow. Certain. Chosen.
