Irritation, at first—for this bratty empath who wouldn’t do as she was told, who wouldn’t bend to my will. Who wasn’t afraid. Then, more dangerous ones: curiosity, intrigue… the urge to protect. The feeling of loss. Of grief.
And now… I can’t name it. But it makes me feel warmer than I ever have.
“Yesterday could’ve ended in disaster,” I say. Blunt.
I’m always too blunt.
She thinks I’m blaming her. I see it in the narrowing of her eyes, the way she pulls back, away from me—
“We should have listened. I’m sorry,” I blurt the final words, halting her regression.
She stills, those red embers flickering with confusion… then something else.
Her lips pull into a soft, self-assured smile. “I accept your apology.”
I shake my head. “You shouldn’t.”
She sighs, long and hard. “That’s where we’re different, Kane. Was I angry that you kept me away? Yes.” She glances down the river. “But do I understand why you did it? Yes. And do I feel a tiny bit smug that I was right and you were all wrong?”
She presses her lips together, trying to hold back another smile, unsuccessfully.
“Still think empaths are weak?” she asks.
But she doesn’t say it in malice, no, she’s teasing me. I hear it in her voice, see it in her expression, how her eyes glisten and lips twitch.
I said that once. I remember. How being controlled by her emotions made her weak. And I know I should reply with something equally light, but… I don’t know how.
Suddenly, I find myself wishing I was more like Sai. Silver-tongued, quick-witted.
A dreadful realisation.
Instead, I go with my mantra. I tell the truth.
“A being who can make even a demon like me feel is the very opposite of weak.”
Did I imagine that blush?
“All empaths can do that.” She looks away, hiding those entrancing eyes behind feathery lashes.
I lean forwards, resting my forearms on my knees. “You’re right, but not like this. You make me feel… everything.”
I don’t know why I said that. No—that’s a lie. I do know. It’s the truth. Because I don’t have to pretend with her. Because I’ve never wanted to be understood until I met her.
She blinks, her fingers tightening around the grass. “I—” She clears her throat, then glares at me. “You don’t talk like this.”
I’ve seen her angry, stubborn, sharp-tongued, but flustered? Speechless? Rarely… And I decide I want more.
“Maybe you bring out my better qualities.”
She makes a strangled sound in the back of her throat, and I don’t miss the way her gaze flickers down to my—
Is she looking at my mouth?
I’m suddenly hyper aware of how easily the words are coming, how I haven’t stumbled through this conversation like I usually do. I never know how to speak to people and, as Sai so kindly remarked, especially not in a flirtatious manner.
I’m too blunt. Too cold. Too distant.
Yet here she is, shifting uncomfortably, struggling to hold my gaze. I did that.
