“Are you giving me answers because you want to, or because you just want to sleep with me again?”
His head snaps up, too fast.
“You think that’s all I want from you?”
The words come out rough, uneven. He drags a hand across his jaw, muscles flexing hard like he’s trying to anchor himself in the motion.
“Fuck,” he mutters, almost to himself. “That’s the least of what I want.”
Then he looks at me. Really looks. His eyes search mine, slow and intent—like he’s weighing something heavy in the back of his mind. His throat works. Once, twice. Then, softer—raw like skin peeled back?—
“Lyra,” he says, “I want the parts you never let anyone touch. The part that’s still shaking from when you were seven in that fire. The part that gets angry when your Threads lock up. The part that hesitates on the ledge every time. I want the part that still carries around that fucking duck even though you haven’t needed it in months.” He drags a hand through his hair, chestrising uneven now. “I’m not looking for something I can fuck and forget. I want it. I want all of it.”
My whole body stills, chest pulls tight. Silence stretches between us, long and taut. Because I don’t know what I expected him to say, but it sure as hell wasn’tthat.
He’s usually so composed, controlled to the point of arrogance.
But out here, now, he isn’t being cocky. Or charming. He’s just... standing there, stupidly open and unbearablyhonest. The last time I saw him like this, unravelling at the edges, was at Bren’s house. And now it’s happening again. It’s like when he’s beyond the Veils; he’s distracted. He slips, makes mistakes. Like whatever mask he wears in the Innerlands can’t hold past the Ravine.
I want to say something, that I want that too, that I’m done playing games, but when I reach for his hand, he pulls it back.
“All I wanted was your trust.” He continues, the fight gone from his voice now. “But wanting it doesn’t mean I should have it. Because the fucked-up thing is—you’re right. You’re right not to trust me. No matter how much I want you to, how much I want to make you, I can’t. You shouldn’t. Hell… I don’t even trust myself.” He exhales, sharp and uneven, like he hates the next part. My fingers twitch at my side, itching to reach for him. “I’m not saying I don’t want the soft stuff, Lyra. I do. I just know how it ends—for me, for anyone close enough to matter. The things I’ve done, the things I’ll still have to do… they don’t leave room for it.”
He says it like it’s already decided. Like there’s no path forward, just a closed door with his hand on the lock. But two months ago, after Beth, I had a choice. Would I run? Or would I stay and fight to become someone better? Someone who did the harder things. Who let herself be vulnerable. Who told the truth, even when it cost more.
I could turn away. Pretend I don’t feel what I feel. That would be easy. Safe. My heart’s a drumbeat in my ribs, too loud, too fast. But I don’t back down. I step in closer.
“I don’t need all the answers tonight,” I say quietly. “I just needyou.”
His jaw tightens, but I don’t stop.
“If you were going to betray me, if you were going to hurt me, you’ve had every chance already. I trust you, Talen. I want you. And I’m choosing to give you everything—even if I don’t know what that means yet.”
He looks at me. And god, there’s something in his eyes—like he wants to believe me. Like some broken part of him is clawing for it. But whatever hope might be buried there gets crushed the second he speaks.
“You think you want me now,” he replies, voice rougher, broken. “But I’m telling you, this only ends two ways. Men like me don’t get happy endings, Lyra. We either die young fighting, or live long enough to become the very monster we swore to kill.” His head shakes and his next words barely make it out. “And you shouldn’t tie yourself to a man who’s already halfway to both.”
Well, it's too fucking late for that, I'm in way too deep. I couldn't un-want this, him, even if I tried.
My voice is steady. My hands aren’t.
“Maybe that’s what you believe. Fine. But I don’t. I don’t see a monster when I look at you, even if you’re desperate to make me think otherwise.”
I take a step forward, he shifts back.
“I forced you to kiss me.” He shakes his head again, hands curling into a fist at his side. “Forced you to date me, knowing full well you hated me...” A breath. “God, that first kiss... I’d thought about it for so long. What it would be like. And thatwasn’tit. Forcing you like that.” He swallows hard. “I wish I could just take it back. Do it all over again.”
I blink.
The day he kissed me in front of everyone after I interfered with Ezzy’s Demonstration. We barely knew each other, still hated each other... And yet he wanted methen?
Silence hums between us, taut as a wire.
I see it in his eyes, war and want, shame tangled with hunger. My heart kicks up hard, climbing into my throat, loud enough I’m sure he can hear it.
But I lift my chin to meet his eyes.
“Do it,” I whisper. “Show me how it was supposed to feel.”
