But even now, some traitorous part of me is dying to cross the space between us, to touch him and prove he’s real.Feelsomething again after years of feeling nothing.
Xeni’s face twists as his eye tracks down my arm to where my fingers dig into Cato’s wrist. His fury gives me a cruel thrill, and I despise myself for the satisfaction I take from his jealousy.
I have always been the person to turn the other cheek. Not passive, but guided by fairness and a heart too soft for my own good.
Not today.
Today I want him to hurt the way I have hurt every single day since he left.
My grip on Cato’s forearm tightens as Xeni’s nostrils flare. Anger swirls inside that pale eye. Where I have learned to leash my emotions, Xeni was always their captive. He’s ruled by whatever burns hottest inside him.
“Not you,” I repeat, voice calmer, and Cato relaxes beside me.
My fingertips linger over his skin a moment longer than necessary before I let go, but I never look away from Xeni.
“Heard a rumor you were dead,” I say at last.
His tongue flicks out to wet his lips, and his gaze abandons Cato’s wrist to find mine again. “That’s… not entirely true…”
“Obviously not,” I snap as I shake my head. I turn away, unable to bear the sight of him another second. “You think I wouldn’t know if you were?” I muse quietly.
“Bash,” he whispers.
The plea is the first tremor of an earthquake, rattling the foundation I’ve fought so hard to rebuild. My eyes close against the sound and my throat seizes, airways narrowing until every breath feels borrowed.
Both Xeni’s and Cato’s gazes bore into me as I drag in slow breaths, but calm is unreachable.
“Don’t call me that,” I finally manage to say.
“Bash, please,” he tries again.
The last thread of my restraint snaps.
I spin and close the distance in two strides, hands slamming into his shoulders. His back hits the wall, and I crowd in until we're nose to nose, with every inch of space between us crackling with heat.
My body screams for contact.
It aches to let him feed the fire he started all those years ago, even as it threatens to consume me. His scent floods my lungs, sweet amber and achingly familiar, and the flames roar higher.
“I said don’t call me that,” I growl through bared teeth, hating the sadness pooling in his eye.
He has no right to it.
No right to stand here and unravel everything I rebuilt from the ashes he left behind.
But he doesn’t fight back.
Doesn’t push, doesn’t move, just waits beneath me, docile.
I shove harder, pinning him with my weight. “It’s not myname. Not anymore.”
“Why not?” he whispers, voice trembling. The frantic drum of his heart matches mine, always perfectly in sync.
For a treacherous second, I close my eyes and let myself fall into the illusion.
The planes of his body.
The warmth.
