I turn her face toward me slowly. Her skin is soft under my fingertips, warm despite the chill in her hands. Smooth and delicate in a way that makes something protective and primal rise up in my chest.
We're close now. Too close. Breathing the same air. The space between us charged with everything we haven't said, everything we've been circling around since the moment she walked into this apartment and filled it with warmth and light and cooking smells that made it feel like home.
The pull between us is immediate. Magnetic. Undeniable. Something that's been building for days, coiling tighter every time we're in the same room. Every time she smiles. Every time she blushes. Every time those dimples appear and knock the air from my lungs.
I can see the pulse in her throat. Rapid. Unsteady. Fluttering like a trapped bird.
She looks at me, and for a moment the guarded expression cracks. Something raw flashes in her blue eyes. Vulnerability. Want. All of it tangled together in a way that makes my chest tighten and my control slip another fraction.
We lean in. Almost kissing. The space between us shrinking to nothing, to breath and heat and the thundering of my own pulse in my ears. Her lips are parted slightly, soft and full and so close I can feel the warmth of her breath ghosting across my mouth.
Her breath hitches. A small sound, barely audible, but I feel it everywhere.
My hand moves of its own accord. Reaches up, tucks a lock of blonde hair behind her ear with slow deliberation. The silk of it slides through my fingers, soft as water, and I savor the sensation because I know I shouldn't be doing this. Know there's no stepping back from this.
And see it.
A gash. On her forehead, near her left eye. Butterfly bandages holding it together, the edges of the wound stark against her pale skin. The flesh around it is bruised and swollen, purple and yellow spreading outward like a stain.
Rage floods through me. Hot. Instant. All-consuming.
The kind of fury that obliterates thought and leaves only action.
Luan did this. In a moment of rage. He can't see, can't control his movements when anger takes over, can't gauge distance or forceor consequence. But Lily got caught in it. Collateral damage from his blindness and his fury and his inability to accept what's happened to him.
"Qelbësirë," I curse under my breath. Bastard.
The word tastes like ash.
I stand fast, the movement propelling me backward. Away from her. Away from the pull I can't afford to feel. "LUAN!"
The name echoes through the apartment, sharp and furious. Loud enough to carry through walls and closed doors. Loud enough to demand immediate response.
I storm through the hallway, my boots heavy against the hardwood.
I find him in the office, sitting in the leather chair like a king on a throne. Glass of whiskey in hand, the amber liquid catching the low light from the desk lamp. His posture is relaxed. Casual. Like nothing happened. Like the woman in the next room isn't cleaning up the evidence of his loss of control while bleeding from a wound on her face.
My vision narrows. Tunnels down to him and nothing else.
I grab him by the collar. Yank him up with enough force that the glass tumbles from his hand, hitting the carpet with a muted thud. Whiskey soaking into the fibers, the smell sharp and immediate.
"Qelbësirë!" The word rips out of me, vicious and uncontrolled. "You need to control yourself or I'll make you!"
"What the fuck?" Luan pushes me back hard. His hands find my chest and shove, and I stumble back a step before catching my balance. His green eyes are unfocused but full of anger, blazing with it. "Watch it, Artan!"
"Both of you, stop!" Lily's voice cuts through the tension like a blade. She gets between us, her small frame suddenly a wall. Her hands come up, one pressed against my chest, the other against Luan's.
I can feel her trembling. The fine tremor running through her body, adrenaline and fear.
"Don't defend him when he hurt you," I say. My voice comes out low and dangerous, barely controlled. The rage is still there, simmering just below the surface, demanding release.
Luan's face shifts. The anger bleeds away, replaced by something more dangerous. His jaw tightens. His hands drop to his sides, fingers curling into fists.
"What?" His voice goes quiet. Deadly. Empty of everything except threat. "What are you talking about?"
Lily touches her forehead. Fingers brushing the bandages with careful precision. Her face shifts, understanding flooding in, followed immediately by something guarded and careful. Something that looks like panic barely contained.
"It wasn't Luan."
