“I remember.”
“I intend to keep it.”
He kissed me. Slower than before, deeper. His hands slid down my back, pulling me closer, and I went willingly. We had six hours. I didn’t intend to waste them.
“Bedroom,” I said against his mouth.
“Anhara.”
“I’ll be careful with your stitches. I promise.” I pulled back enough to look at him. “But I’m not spending what might be our last night together being careful about anything else.”
Something shifted in his expression. The careful control cracking, just slightly.
“Bedroom,” he agreed.
The bedroom was small.A single window looked out over the fields, letting in the last of the sunset. The bed was narrow, made for one person, but we’d make it work.
I turned to face him. He stood in the doorway, watching me with those dark red eyes.
“Second thoughts?” I asked.
“No.” He crossed to me. “You?”
“No.”
He kissed me again. His hands found the hem of my shirt, lifted it over my head. I nodded before he could ask, and the fabric fell away.
His shirt was harder. I had to work around the bandages, careful not to press too hard against the stitches. He helped, shrugging out of the fabric, and then he was bare-chested in front of me.
Lean muscle. Old scars, pale against his gray skin. And the sigils.
I’d seen them before, but not like this. Not with the sunset light catching them, not with permission to touch. They swirled across his chest and shoulders, black against his gray skin. Static patterns, intricate and alien.
I traced one with my finger.
He inhaled sharply. His skin was warm under my touch, warmer than a human’s.
“Sensitive?” I asked.
“Very.”
I traced another. This one curved along his collarbone, dipping toward his sternum and I felt him shudder.
“Does it hurt?”
“The opposite.”
I filed that away. For now, I wanted more of him.
His hands found the fastenings of my pants. He undid them slowly, giving me time to stop him if I wanted.
I didn’t want.
The fabric pooled at my feet. I stepped free, kicked it aside. I was bare now except for my underclothes, and he was looking at me like I was something precious. Something worth protecting.
“Your turn,” I said.
He stripped. No hesitation, no performance. Just the practical removal of obstacles between his skin and mine.
