“Sure I do,” Kit said with a shrug.
He was too close. I could feel the warmth of him, the rhythm of his heartbeat, steady and strong. I wanted to tell him to stop. To step back and to give me space to think, but I didn’t.
Because the truth was, the thought of him walking out that door forever made something deep inside me twist painfully.
“You can’t keep saving me, Kit,” I said quietly.
“Then stop making me want to.”
That did it. I turned away, shaking my head, trying to find something else to focus on.
“If the Guild finds out about us, we’re doomed,” I said.
“They won’t.”
“If one of my sire’s creatures tracks me again?—”
“We’ll handle it together,” Kit said firmly.
“We?” I asked.
He smiled faintly. “Yeah. We.”
For a second, all I could do was look at him. At this stubborn, reckless hunter who’d somehow become the only thing keeping me tethered to something that felt like living.
The hunger stirred again, faint but present, twisting through my veins. His scent filled the air. Blood, sweat, adrenaline, and it was too much. My jaw clenched, and I forced myself to step back.
Kit noticed. “Simon?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” Kit pointed out.
“I said I’m fine,” I snapped, harsher than I meant to.
The silence that followed hurt worse than the wound. Kit’s hand dropped from my arm, and I hated the flash of hurt that crossed his face.
“I just need time. The blood. It calls when I fight. You should go before I forget myself,” I told him.
Kit didn’t move. For a long moment, I thought he’d argue again. But then he nodded slowly, his expression unreadable.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll give you space.”
I expected him to turn and walk out right then, but Kit just stood there, still and thoughtful, eyes flicking over me like he could see every fracture beneath my skin.
Then, instead of leaving, he crouched beside the feral’s body.
“You got rid of the last one,” he said after a moment. “I’ll bury this one out back.”
“You don’t have to,” I pointed out.
Kit shrugged. He slid his arms under the corpse and dragged it toward the back door. I watched him go, the muscles in his back tightening under his shirt, his movements steady.
“Thank you,” I said.
He paused at the threshold, the night wind catching his hair, making it ripple like shadow and firelight.
“You did good tonight,” he said softly.
