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I didn’t touch her.

Not last night. Not when I brought her here shaking and broken. Not when I laid down beside her because I didn’t trust myself to leave her alone.

I told myself it was vigilance.

That I was guarding her.

That I was listening for threats.

The truth is uglier.

I wanted to be close to her without crossing the line. I wanted to feel her warmth without taking it. I wanted proof that I could still choose restraint.

I wanted to prove that Sibley was wrong. I haven’t spoken to her lately, as she’s helping Jett’s friend with her shop, to speak to her about the vision she’d seen. All I know is what I feel. What shesaid about the three of us finding our mates. That once Aziz claimed his, and he has, we’d find ours.

I’ve never wanted to claim someone. I’ve never felt the need to have someone at my side.

I hadn’t wanted to want Cassia.

Now, I’m lying here, wide awake, my control fraying at the edges because she’s inches from me and I don’t know how much longer I can pretend I’m unaffected.

Her lips part as she exhales.

The sound does something to me.

I clench my jaw and stare at the ceiling.

This is dangerous.

Not the uprising. Not the threats. Not the idiots who think they can challenge my rule.

This.

Wanting something I can’t afford.

I turn my head back to her despite myself.

I can still feel the imprint of her body against mine from last night when I carried her. The way she fit too easily. The way my instincts had locked around her like she was something to be protected at all costs.

She shifts slightly, one hand sliding across the sheet until her fingers brush my arm.

The contact is accidental.

It still sends a sharp pulse through me.

I don’t move. I don’t breathe.

She murmurs something under her breath and turns her face toward me, still asleep, her knee brushing my thigh.

I’m done for.

I haven’t wanted someone like this in longer than I care to admit. Not the body. Not the release. The closeness. The grounding. The quiet intimacy of sharing space without violence or purpose attached.

I should get up.

I should put distance between us.

Instead, I stay.