The lunge.
The instant when I thought he was going to be hit, my body moved before my mind did.
I still don’t know why I did that.
Bravery doesn’t live in my bones. Survival does.
Maybe that was survival too.
Maybe my body decided that if Orpheus died, I’d die right after him, and it didn’t want to take the chance.
The thought makes my stomach twist.
I swallow hard and keep my face neutral.
I don’t get to fall apart. Not yet.
Orpheus speaks into the silence.
“You shouldn’t have been there. I regret my decision to take you with me, but you should’ve listened.”
His tone is flat. Not angry. Not worried. Not even irritated. Just a statement.
I turn slowly. “I did listen.”
“No.” His gaze pins me. “You stepped in front of me.”
My brows furrow. Does he really not realize why I did that? “I thought he was going to hurt you,” I snap back, and I hate that my voice cracks on the last word.
His eyes flick over my face, like he hears the crack.
“He wasn’t,” Orpheus says. “He was trying to provoke a reaction.”
“Well, congratulations,” I mutter. “He got one.”
His jaw tightens.
I expect him to bark at me, to order me into a corner, to remind me of what he is.
Instead, he exhales.
Slow and controlled.
Like he’s forcing himself to call on the small human part of himself in the way he speaks to me.
He leans back in his chair. “Cassia.”
His eyes pop up to mine, but I don’t see the same calmness that’s in his voice reflected in them. They’re glowing.
In a flash, he’s out of his chair and in front of me.
I gasp when I feel his hands snake up into my hair and pull my head back. It’s all happening so fast, but not fast enough.
His lips are against mine in the next instant.
I know I should push him away, but I want more of him. He tastes absolutely delicious. The kiss is nearly feral. Primal. He sucks at my lips, licks and samples me. Possesses my mouth like it’s always belonged to him.
It’s over nearly as quickly as it starts.
