TEN
SELENE
The mirror doesn’t lie.
I stare at my reflection in the bathroom glass, cataloging what I see. Gray eyes, slightly bloodshot from lack of sleep. Hair tangled from running my fingers through it too many times. Lips still swollen from being bitten in frustration.
Behind me, the cabin is quiet. Empty. He’s been gone for hours, securing the perimeter like he said, and I’ve spent every minute of that time replaying our almost-kiss. The way his hands framed my face. The way his eyes glowed with want before fear took over.
The woman looking back at me has spent her whole life being careful. Playing it safe. Making sensible choices and dating sensible men and building a sensible career that left her hollow inside.
Where has careful gotten me?
Alone. Bored. Unfulfilled.
Three failed relationships. Two career changes. One grandmother who left me a cabin full of secrets and a destiny I never asked for.
And now I’m here—on a mountain, hunted by dragons, falling for a man who’s terrified to touch me. A man who almost kissed me today. A man who ran because he’s convinced his desire will destroy me.
I grip the edge of the sink. Watch my knuckles go white.
If you’re going to die anyway—if rogues and prophecies and ancient artifacts are coming for you no matter what—at least live first.
I straighten. Meet my own gaze in the mirror.
I’m done being careful.
I’m done waiting for him to decide when—if—he’s ready.
Tonight, when he comes back, we’re finishing what we started.
The sun setsin shades of crimson and gold.
I’ve showered. Changed into a soft cotton shirt that hangs off one shoulder, loose pants that sit low on my hips. Nothing fancy. Nothing calculated. Just comfortable, simple, me.
The fire in the hearth burns low. I’ve lit candles around the cabin, not for romance but for practice—each one ignited with a thought, a small exercise in control. The warm light softens the rough edges of the room, makes it feel less like a fortress and more like a home.
I’m sitting on the couch, Grandma’s journal open in my lap, when the door opens.
He fills the doorway. Broad shoulders blocking the last of the daylight. Golden hair wind-tossed. Eyes finding mine immediately, searching for—what? Anger? Fear? Resignation?
He won’t find any of those.
I close the journal. Set it aside. Stand.
“Selene.” My name sounds like an apology on his lips. “About earlier?—”
“No.”
He stops. Confusion flickers across his face.
“No more apologies.” I cross the room toward him. Slow. Deliberate. “No more excuses. No more running.”
“Selene—”
“We’re done dancing around this.” I stop in front of him, close enough to feel his heat, close enough to see the way his breath catches. “You want me. I know you do. I felt it when you touched me. Saw it in your eyes before you ran.”
His jaw tightens. “What I want doesn’t matter.”
