Trust. Despite everything Seraphina had said. Despite every reason she had to doubt him.
"You're not going to hurt me, Dante." Her voice was soft but certain. "You won't let yourself."
XLI.
BRYNN
The shadows wove between them, tendrils that moved with purpose, creating a barrier she hadn't asked for. She could feel their touch against her outstretched hand, substantial enough to push back against her skin.
Even his power was trying to protect her from him.
Or protect him from her.
She should lower her hand. Should step back, rebuild her walls, remember that she'd come here furious and convinced she was nothing special—just the latest in a pattern of mortal women foolish enough to catch the Reaper's eye.
But she'd watched his face as he told her about Elizabeth. Watched centuries of guilt crack open, raw and so painfully genuine that her anger had faltered.
He wasn't a monster incapable of caring. He was someone who'd cared too much, lost everything, and spent lifetimes punishing himself for one moment of weakness.
And he was looking at her now with eyes full of want and terror, like she was simultaneously the thing he needed most and the thing that could destroy him.
She knew that feeling.
Idiot,the survival part of her brain hissed.He just told her that hekilled the last woman who got close. And here she was, hand extended, inviting a wolf to feed from her palm.
She didn't lower her hand.
"Trust yourself," she said softly, her fingers hovering inches from his face. Close enough that she could feel the temperature difference between his skin and the air. Close enough that she could see the way his pupils had dilated, how badly he wanted to believe her. "You're not the same person who made that mistake."
His breathing went ragged. She watched conflict play across his features—the rigid control cracking, desperation surfacing beneath.
His shadows writhed between them, reaching for her even as they pushed her back. Wanting her. Fighting themselves the same way he was fighting himself.
His eyes closed.
Pain crossed his features. For a moment, she thought he might let her touch him.
Might finally trust himself enough to take the risk.
Her heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her throat. Her arm ached from holding it up so long, trembling with the effort, but she refused to lower it.
His shadows stilled. The barrier between them wavered, thinning until she could almost feel the coolness of his skin through the darkness.
His eyes snapped open.
And she saw the moment he made his choice.
The shadows surged upward, impenetrable, and the impact hit her. She staggered back, her outstretched hand meeting nothing but cold, unyielding darkness where his face had been.
"I can't."
Two words. Broken. Final.
"I'm sorry."
She opened her mouth to argue, to plead, to rage. But before she could form a single syllable, he disappeared.
He vanished into shadow and darkness, using his power to flee what terrified him more than any enemy ever could.
