Her hand is rising, so close to my face, one touch, and my thinning restraint will shatter—my fingers close around her wrist.
Her breath stutters out, eyes widening before a film of grey washes over them.
The voice stops. Everything softens as though we’re suspended underwater, but I can breathe.
I can always breathe with her.
“Was that clear enough?” My voice rumbles, doubled by darkness as I guide her hand back down to her lap.
She never looks away, and the way she’s looking at me... My thumb drifts over her wrist, memorising the softness, the warmth, the flutter of her pulse.
Then, she shakes her head.
“No?” The sound edges into a scoff. Even now, in a soft haze, she’s fighting me, riling me.
I release her hand, but don’t retreat. I’m caught in her light, starving for more.
My fingers lift. “You need me to be clearer, empath?” My first touch is tentative, the barest graze along her jaw. “You want more of my words?” Fingertips trace the curve of her cheek. “Or something else?” I murmur.
When her eyes flutter shut, I let myself believe. Believe I’m allowed this. Allowed to touch something so ethereal, always afraid my darkness will smear her.
My hand moves with aching slowness, brushing the edge of her face, learning every line, every angle, savouring this—her.
“I… I think we need to stop.” Her breathless words still my fingers at her cheekbone, our eyes meeting mine again.
Her irises glow like soft embers, the remnants of a fire, or the beginning of one. Half-lidden, and so beautiful I can’t stop staring.
She’s right. We should stop. Because if she tries to touch me again, I’ll let her, and I won’t let her stop.
But I’m reluctant to let go. Everything is so warm and quiet when I touch her, like that first time in her room at TheInferno. I’d never felt calm like it. She alone steadies the chaos inside me.
“I never thought you’d let me touch you like this.” My fingers drift lower, and when I brush the corner of her mouth, those embers flare. “Let me savour it.”
I run my thumb across her lower lip, a stuttered breath falls out, and her eyes turn pleading.
Ezekial is right, she plays this part so well. Staring up at me with those tempting eyes and soft mouth and—I shake myself, shut my eyes, block out the enchantress before me.
And when she pulls away, my hand immediately falls, and the noise rushes back in.
“Well.” She clears her throat, and my gaze darts to her. “Thank you for being… clear with me. It’s… good to know where we stand.” She wets her lip, tongue darting over the soft pink skin I just touched.
Did she do that on purpose? To tempt me? Tease me? Make me snap?
Yes. Show her. Take her.
She shifts, arms tensing as if to push herself up, to escape.
But I can’t let her. Not yet.
“And where do we stand,immaru?” I murmur.
Her mouth drops open, and isn’t that a pretty sight.
I can’t stop the corner of my lips from lifting, not when my darkness is right there, staring at the only thing it wants so badly.
“I… well…” She glances away, takes a breath, then looks back warily. “Can… can you back up?”
I don’t want to. I want to stay this close until she loses her mind, until she asks me to ease her, until those wide eyes beg me to keep touching her.
