The apology chipped away at Lykor’s anger, splintering it piece by piece. The truth had only been concealed for a night—barely a flicker in time. Hardly a betrayal.
Even so, the deception writhed inside him. It shouldn’t matter. Itdidn’tmatter.
And yet…
Fury continued to pulse beneath his skin, but aimless now—adrift, disarmed—especially with Jassyn looking at him like that. Steady and unflinching, his calm slicing cleaner than any blade. Lykor couldn’t tell where the anger ended and the ache began—only that both feelings belonged to him, and both were burning.
In the silence that followed, he became acutely aware of the rise and fall of Jassyn’s chest beneath his arm. The slow pull of fabric stretching over skin.
Releasing the pressure from Jassyn’s neck, Lykor lowered his hand. But instead of letting go entirely, his fingers curled into Jassyn’s tunic, knuckles grazing against the bared skin at his throat.
Jassyn’s breath hitched, but he didn’t look away.
Neither did Lykor.
Heat licked up his arm at the contact. Lykor went still. Lingering. He found he couldn’t move—didn’t want to.
His gaze traced the sharp line of Jassyn’s jaw and the planes of his cheeks before landing on the scar slashed across his brow.Lykor’s chest tightened, guilt squeezing around his ribs like a vise.
He didn’t want to hurt him. Not again.
Torchlight flickered in Jassyn’s eyes, gilding the green and gold flecks, deepening the regret that rested there.
Lykor tried to will himself to break free, to step back. But his focus only dipped lower. To the parted line of Jassyn’s lips. To the pulse fluttering at his throat.
A reckless heat seared through him, wilder than rage had ever been. More consuming. More dangerous, scrambling his thoughts.
Lykor leaned in, close enough to share breath. Close enough that a single shift would collapse the distance entirely.
He didn’t know what he was doing. He’d never done this before. Had never wanted to.
Until now.
His weight tipped forward before he realized it—a slow, inevitable draw he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t control.
Jassyn didn’t pull away. His eyes widened, breath catching, but he stayed utterly still.
Didn’t move at all.
And that was the problem.
A jolt of clarity lanced through him. Did Jassyn want this—or had he simply been conditioned not to refuse?
So much had already been stolen from him. Stripped by uncaring hands—those who’d never given him a choice.
Lykor refused to be one of them. Refused to claim something that Jassyn might not be willing to give.
The thought shattered the moment. He wrenched himself back so suddenly that Jassyn staggered forward.
Jassyn blinked, reaching to where his touch had been.
Lykor’s pulse thrashed in his skull. He wanted to pretend that it hadn’t happened. Nothinghadhappened.
But he could still feel it, what might have been if he hadn’t—
Jassyn exhaled a shaky breath and stepped forward. Like he always did. Always following. Always closing the distance Lykor tried to preserve.
And Lykor didn’t know if he wanted to shove him away again—to test if Jassyn would keep closing the gap.
