“It’s so much worse this time. It looks like you lost a fight with a fairy,” I guffawed.
Savla lifted one brow at me, glitter cascading off his cheek like he was shedding magical dandruff. “You’re covered twice asmuch.”
“Because I’m a delight,” I said. “This is on-brand for me.”
He muttered something in Orcish that I waspositivewas a curse. I grabbed a roll of paper towels and knelt to start cleaning—but Savla knelt at the same time, and we bumped shoulders. Hard. The impact made a soft thud, like the universe clearing its throat and whispering,pay attention.
My breath caught and I heard his catch as well. For a moment we just stayed there. Shoulder to shoulder on the floor, surrounded by glitter that caught the lantern-light and reflected it in warm glints over his face. His lashes were dusted with it. His lips, too.
He looked unreal. Untouchable and dangerous, because my heart was starting to understand something my brain was terrified to acknowledge.
He reached out first, big hand closing around the paper towel I was holding. But instead of taking it, he paused—his fingers brushing over my knuckles. A slow drag and a soft shock to my senses. My entire body hummed, heating in a way that was far more inappropriate than this much glitter warranted.
He cleared his throat, too quickly. “I’ll… I’ll clean the floor. You shouldn’t breathe this in if it becomes airborne.”
“Savla,” I said softly.
He didn’t look at me as his jaw ticked. “It’s just glitter.”
We both knew it wasn’t. The bond tugged at me—stronger than ever—like a low, magnetic pull under my ribs, insistingcloser, closer, closer.I didn’t know if he could feel it too, or if he was fighting it with that iron will of his, but the air between us was charged with tension.
I dipped my hand into the glitter mess, scooping the shimmering powder off the wood. “You don’t have to help. I can do it.”
“It’s our mess,” he said without thinking.
I froze before slowly lifted my gaze. His eyes went wide again. Panic—not the dangerous kind, but the soft, alarmed kind—flashed across his face.
“Imeant,” he said too quickly, “the workspace. It’s a shared workspace. Your workshop and my—my helping with the online storefront. Not—ours—not like—” He exhaled sharply through his nose. “Forget it.”
I didn’t smile and I didn’t tease him. Even though he’d gusted out a rush of glitter like he was a dragon that roared with glitter-bombs instead of flames.
Because the bond pulsed hard enough to make my fingers tremble. Instead, I reached out and brushed glitter from the back of his wrist. His skin tensed beneath my fingertips—hot, warm and alive.
“You can say ‘ours,’” I whispered. “If you want to.”
His breath trembled out of him in a long rush. The room felt suddenly too small andfartoo hot, just like the moment between lightning and thunder. Electricity and anticipation filling the space.
He swallowed. “I don’t want to claim something that isn’t mine.”
“I get to choose,” I said, my voice barely above a breath.
His head snapped up. “Hanna—”
Ribbon suddenly launched himself onto my lap and croaked loudly—breaking the moment so violently I yelped. Savla shut his eyes like he was thanking every ancestor ever born.
“You,” I scowled at Ribbon, “need to apologize. You ruined a perfectly good emotional moment.”
Ribbon sprawled dramatically over my thighs like a fainting Victorian aunt, clearly unbothered. And then herefusedto get up.
Savla frowned at him. “Ribbon. Off.”
Ribbon jiggled in violent disagreement.
“Does he want to sleep here?” I asked, incredulous. Ribbon croaked affirmatively and wrapped his tongue around my wrist.
Savla groaned into his palms. “He thinks he’s your guard toad now. Wonderful.”
“That’s adorable,” I said.
