He should say no. Should insist she stay here, where his shadows could protect her, where Vex's influence couldn't reach.
But she was right. They needed to investigate the Consumed court. And she'd proven, again and again, that she was stronger than he gave her credit for.
"Deal," he said.
She smiled—that sharp, satisfied smile that meant she'd won and she knew it. "Good. When do we leave?"
He glanced toward the window, where the eternal twilight was brightening toward its approximation of midday.
"This afternoon. I want my shadow-guards to finish their hunt first. If there's any information about last night's attack, I want it before we walk into Vex's domain."
"Reasonable." She stole one last piece of fruit from his plate, popping it into her mouth with exaggerated satisfaction. "That gives us a few hours."
"For what?"
"I don't know." She leaned back in her chair, her ankle still hooked around his under the table. "I've never had a few hours with nowhere to be and nothing trying to kill me. It's a novel experience."
He was in over his head.
He'd grown familiar with the sharp ache of want over recent weeks. This was different. Quieter. The realization settling into his bones that this woman, stealing his food and teasing him about ballads, had become essential.
Not because he needed her to fix the wards.
Because he neededher.
"We could stay here," he said, and his voice came out rougher than he intended. "A few hours of nothing trying to kill you sounds like something worth protecting."
Her expression softened, the sharpness giving way to warmth. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
She smiled again, but this one was different. Gentler. She tugged on his hand, pulling him closer, and when she leaned up to press her lips to his cheek—soft and quick and over before he could fully process it—his entire world narrowed to that single point of contact.
"Okay," she said quietly. "Let's do that."
They stayed at the table. Her legs tangled with his. His hand in hers.
She trusted him. He could see it in the way she leaned into his side, the way she'd stopped bracing for impact every time he moved.
He wasn't sure he deserved it.
He held her hand anyway.
LI.
BRYNN
Dante's hand brushed hers as she passed him the transport documents, and neither of them pulled away.
His fingers were gentle against her knuckles, the contact so light it could have been accidental. But they both knew it wasn't. They'd been doing this for hours now, finding excuses to touch, testing this impossible thing they'd discovered. She could touch him. And live.
Her pulse stuttered as his thumb traced a slow path across the back of her hand. Such a small thing. Such a devastating thing. The Lord of the Forsaken, the Reaper, was stroking her hand like she was something worth protecting instead of something that should shatter at his touch. His shadows curled around her ankles the way they always did now, another way for him to reach for her.
"The transport circle is ready," he said, his voice dropping low enough to make her stomach flip.
"Then we should go."
She didn't move. Neither did he. His dark eyes held hers, and she watched want flicker in their depths. Uncertainty. The same war she felt every time they stood this close.
