Because I’m already half-claimed by you. Because every protective instinct I have is screaming to solve this problem. Because the thought of collectors putting their hands on you makes me want to destroy things.
“Because I don’t want to see you hurt,” I say instead.
Long pause. Lightning flashes, illuminating her face in purple-gold light.
“I’ve been taking care of myself for nine years, Cetus. I’ll figure this out too.”
“You don’t have to do it alone.”
“I do, though.” Her smile is sad in a way that makes my chest ache. “Because in four days, the storm clears and I leave. That’s the deal. That’s always the deal.”
“That doesn’t have to be—”
“It does.” She cuts me off, but gently. “I don’t stay places. I don’t... this isn’t my life.”
She gestures around the residential pod—at the domestic warmth we’ve created, the kitchen still smelling of chocolate, Tavia’s drawings on the walls.
“This is temporary. I’m good at temporary.”
Something fierce and possessive rises in my chest. “What if temporary doesn’t have to mean nothing?”
She looks at me, caught off guard. “What?”
I step closer. The space between us feels charged, like the air before a lightning strike.
“What if we have four days? What if that’s... enough?”
Understanding dawns in her eyes. Then something else—want, fear, hope.
“Cetus—”
“I’m not asking you to stay.” The lie tastes bitter. “I’m not asking for promises.” Another lie. “But I’m asking... don’t pretend there’s nothing here.”
“I’m not pretending anything.” Her voice is rough, honest. “I’m trying to be smart.”
“And is it working?”
She laughs—short, sharp, frustrated. “No. Not even a little bit.”
My hand comes up before I can stop myself, cupping her face with careful precision. My claws are retracted, but I’m hyperaware of them, of how easily I could hurt her if I lost control.
She doesn’t pull away. If anything, she leans into my palm.
“Then maybe we stop trying to be smart,” I say quietly.
“That’s a terrible idea.”
“I know.”
“We have four days. Then I leave.”
“I know that too.”
“And you’re okay with that?” She searches my face. “Four days and then nothing?”
I’m absolutely not okay with that. The thought of her leaving makes something in my chest constrict painfully. But four days of having her is better than maintaining careful distance and regretting it forever.
“I need you to understand something,” I say, my voice dropping into harmonic registers I can’t control. “Lividians... we don’t do casual easily. When we want something, someone, it’s... intense.”
