“You’re ours, Nova.” He says it simply. Like it’s obvious. “Rane said it last night. No one corrected him because it’s true.”
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.
“It’s not just the system. Not just a cluster label.” He takes a step closer. “We knew. All of us. The moment we saw you.”
“But what does that even mean, Kyron?”
He doesn’t answer. Just watches me with those impossible blue eyes.
“I had never even heard of a cluster until a few weeks ago. I don’t understand why the woman who did my makeup when Zoe and I were shopping kept talking about it like it was something every woman wanted. Why she was so happy about her own and kept telling me how lucky I was.”
I take a breath because I have to get this out.
“And you guys are justthere. Walking me to class. Making sure I have things. Fuck, you paid—” My voice cracks. “You paid for me to go shopping. And I got the softest sweater and creams that Zoe said I needed and I don’t even knowwhyand… and…”
I finally stop talking and look at him.
He’s beaming. Not a smirk, not that knowing look he usually wears. A real smile, huge, reaching his eyes.
“You’re perfect,” he breathes, and steps closer.
I don’t step back. I roll my eyes without meaning to.
“Nova.” He steps forward again, his hand coming up, thumb brushing my cheek. “We want to do those things for you. It’s not fake. It’s not a burden.”
His palm settles against my jaw, tilting my face up toward his.
“We want to see you happy and fed and safe. And we want to be here while you figure out who you are and who you could be.”
And then he kisses me.
Kyron kisses me like he’s been thinking about it for weeks. Like he’s had a plan and he’s finally executing it. Precise and deliberate andthorough.
My hands find his shirt without permission. Fist in the fabric. Pull himcloser.
My breath catches, and then his other hand is in my hair and he’s tilting my head back and there’s nothing else. Just the slide of his mouth against mine, the way he tastes, the sound of my own heartbeat drowning out everything.
I’m justhere. In this. Wanting this.
Wanting him.
The realization doesn’t scare me like it probably should. It settles and stays there, warm and terrifying and undeniable.
I want this. I wantthem.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. His forehead drops against mine, his hand still cradling my jaw, his thumb tracing my cheekbone.
“Oh,” I say. Stupid. The only word I can find.
He laughs. Low and warm, breath fanning across my lips.
“Yeah,” he says. “Oh.”
Chapter 28
Locke
I’m on the porch when I see them.
