He moves a fraction closer, head tilting, gaze falling to my mouth—and the hunger to close the final space between us becomes a painful ache. But I pull back, not wanting to push him further, even as his eyes beg for relief from this agonizing, tortuous distance.
Releasing a slow breath, he eases a hand between us, settling just below the hollow of my clavicle, and I stop breathing entirely. Hands of a killer, tense with the sexual violence he craves, capable of the brutality and destruction and, undeniably now, the carnage he delivered tonight—those same hands rest tender on me, holding me as if I might shatter under the weight of his touch.
That’s why, in the same way Orion restrains himself, refusing to cross that boundary, fearing he’ll hurt me…I can’t hurt him. Not when he’s this vulnerable. Even here, wading the cold shallows beneath the stars rather than the muck, I have to tread lightly, careful not to shatter his mind.
His gaze skims my features, droplets of water running down his.“Are you still cold,” he asks, his breath a warm brush across my lips, making me shiver.
I drag in a trembling breath, scared to breathe too deeply, for him to feel what’s barely hidden beneath the sheer material. I shake my head. “No,” I say, “but we should probably go in.”
He licks his lips, tasting the salt water, making me irrationally envious over the water that gets to taste him back.
His hand slips away, leaving my chest cold from the loss of his warmth. Delicately, he touches a wet lock of my hair, guiding it behind my ear in a way that avoids touching me, but it’s the closest he’s come without his gloves, and a murmur echoes through my chest.
If Orion is broken, his cracks reveal something startlingly beautiful beneath—and I bear some of the blame for those cracks. I helped carve them deeper. I watched the fault lines widen.
But if his ritual is really complete, then maybe there’s a chance I can help him while still getting what I came here for.
I still have some time.
Taking the risk, I ask, “Orion, what happened tonight…” I hesitate, and a furrow forms between his brows. “Will it happen again?”
He inhales deeply, his chest expanding against me. “No,” he answers simply.
A tremble of relief washes through me, and I relinquish the aching breath from my lungs. Just one word. But it’s enough.
The hunter is done.
To ensure this, I have to see the dark-sky preserve. I need to assess the carnage myself. I don’t know exactly what spiraled him tonight, but in his current state, I can only imagine the mayhem of the crime scene. The potential trace evidence left on the victim—far too close to Shorehaven.
Protecting Orion protects me, us.
The artist should never impose their will on the stone.
And yet, since the start, I’ve been doing just that. Something Darby warned me against so many months ago. And maybe it’s time to stop. Maybe the firefly doesn’t need to lure and trap. Maybe she can be selective of her counterpart, finding that one rare male she can trust. Finding another way into his habitat by forming a real bond, a connection, attracted by a mutual desire. To work together. And maybe, for me, this was always my way in.
Because maybe—we’re not two different species at all.
“Take me in, Orion,” I whisper across his lips, voice soft, imploring his protective instinct. “Take me in and make me warm.”
With a shaky exhale, he nods once, his arms banding possessively tighter as he begins to wade us back toward shore. “The sun will be rising soon.”
I cast one last glance over the water, a solemn ache blooming in my chest at how something so terrifying in the dark can be made beautiful by the simple act of illumination. If dark adaptation is the incremental descent into darkness, then perhaps it’s what we allow, what we accept. Until eventually, inevitably, we no longer fear the dark.
We become part of it.
yours is the light by which my spirit’s born:
yours is the darkness of my soul’s return
you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.
—E.E. CUMMINGS
18
Memento Mori
Any momentmight be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed.
