“That makes one pair.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said in a teasing voice.
A lie, if I’d ever heard one. But he let it drop, and so did I.
We fell into an easy rhythm—me adding ingredients, him grinding, both of us bumping shoulders or elbows whenever we reached for the same thing. He didn’t flinch and he never asked for space. I counted that as the biggest win I could muster for now. Because every time our skin touched, a little spark traveled up my arm and nestled somewhere behind my ribs.
Was it a fated-mate spark? A chemical spark? Or just a wishful-thinking spark?I had no idea, but Idesperatelywanted to find out.
When the second batch finished mixing, it glowed like fireflies trapped underwater. Savla’s posture loosened, and the harsh line of his spine eased. His hands moved with a kind of quiet certainty—gentle almost. Art softened him, and watching that happen felt like witnessing a secret he didn’t mean to share.
I loved every second of it.
Then the paint puffed out a tiny star-shaped spark. I couldn’t stop myself. I had to laugh. It was uncontrollable—bright, delighted and completely ridiculous.
And Savlasmiled. It was small. Barely a twitch, but unmistakable.I froze, staring at him, my eyes trapped on his lips.
“You smiled,” I accused, a grin forming over my own mouth.
“No,” he said instantly, stone-faced again, “I did not.”
“You absolutely did,” I argued.
“Involuntary muscle twitch,” he insisted, his face as unmoving as it had been every other moment. And if I hadn’t seen that smile, I really would have thought I’d imagined it.
“Sure. Your face just had a really good time without the rest of you,” I teased.
For a heartbeat, he simply stared at me. Not annoyed or amused. This was something else entirely—something deep, conflicted and unguarded. The kind of look that made my pulsejump into my throat.
Then he dipped the brush into the shimmering paint and said, low and steady, “Let’s finish the batch.”
I nodded, but my heart was still tumbling around in my chest, trying to understand that tiny smile—or muscle twitch or whatever he wanted to call it. One thing was certain, though. If I wasn’t already half in love with Savla Everlock, that smile finished the job.
The moment he turned back to his pigments, I tried to calm my heartbeat down to something that wouldn’t embarrass me. A normal person’s heartbeat. A not-completely-gone-for-him heartbeat.
No luck.
He moved with so much careful focus, stirring the mixture until it shimmered like starlight caught in tidewater. His forearms flexed, slow and steady, and the glow reflected off the curve of his jaw. I was certain he had no idea how beautiful he was like this—intent, gentle and quietly carved from moonlight. And I wasalsocertain that if I told him, he’d balk and scoff at me.
I have it bad. Dangerously bad.
“Hand me the nightglass?” he asked without looking up.
I passed it to him, and when our fingers brushed, something inside my chestsomersaulted.Not a spark this time—more like a whoosh, a warm rush of magick that curled low in my stomach and whispered,You’re in trouble, Hanna. In fact, you’refucked.
I pretended to busy myself with a mortar and pestle. This was fine. Absolutely fine. Totally manageable... Except itwasn’t.
I’d felt attraction before. I’d haddozensof crushes when I was younger. They’d all been warm and fluttering. The fun kind of chaos that came with cute relationships that had no real meaning.
This?This was a slow, sweet ache inside my chest. A pull,steady and certain.
Every time he glanced up, my breath hitched. Every time he relaxed, I wanted to memorize it. And that one tiny smile of his? I was still recovering.
I pressed my palms to the table, trying to ground myself. I had to stop staring at him like he hung the moon. I had to—
A heavy thump shook the entire workshop. I yelped but Savla didn’t even flinch.
