It wasn’t forceful. No, if anything, the touch was careful. His palm was resting just firmly enough against the curve of my side to make it clear that leaving was no longer the simple option it had been a moment ago. And the worst part was that I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted it to be.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. His gaze rested on me with a quiet intensity that made my pulse quicken. Then, whenhe finally did speak, his voice was softer than I had expected, the words carrying none of the sharp edge I had braced myself for.
“Does the question frighten you?” The gentleness in his tone caught me off guard, and for a second, I considered lying. Perhaps offering some careless response that might allow me to step away again without exposing the truth sitting heavily in my chest.
But the closeness between us made that impossible. So instead, I admitted quietly,
“Yes.”
His hand shifted slightly where it rested against my side, the subtle pressure grounding in a way I hadn’t anticipated.
“Why?” The question was simple, yet the answer felt anything but.
Which was why I hesitated before speaking, my voice quieter now, before admitting,
“Because I don’t belong here.”
A soft breath left him, something close to a sigh, though the faint shake of his head told me he didn’t agree with that statement in the slightest.
“That’s not true.” I couldn’t quite bring myself to meet his eyes. Which was why my gaze lingered stubbornly somewhere near the collar of his shirt, as though focusing there might somehow make the conversation easier. Goddess, but why did even his neck look sexy!
“Look at me,” he murmured and, naturally, I hesitated.
I even considered refusing, instead keeping my attention fixed safely away from the intensity of his gaze. But the quiet patience in his voice eventually wore down my resistance, and my eyes slowly lifted to meet his.
The moment they did, the words I had been trying to keep contained slipped free before I could stop them.
“I’m not who you think I am,” I said softly, the confession leaving my chest in a breath that felt heavier than the words themselves.
“I’m not…not your Siren.”The weight of these words almost made it hard to breathe. Because I was finally admitting to myself that was the only reason I was here. It wasn’t just Bo and the innocent crime of a mortal summoning a demon. But the fact that he believed one of the Sirens’ descendants had done it. That he somehow believed that I belonged in his world, when I already knew that I didn’t. What was even more confusing was the secret knowledge that half of me wished that I did.
He didn’t answer me at first. But the weight of his stare felt as if we didn’t need words between us. No, all we needed was for him to realize his mistake and to let me go.
But that didn’t happen. No, instead, the air between us felt as if it had shifted in some subtle but undeniable way. I became acutely aware of how close he was standing. Of the quiet steadiness of his hands at my waist. Of the warmth of his breath that brushed faintly against my temple every time he exhaled.
Part of me expected him to laugh at the absurdity of the statement. Another part of me feared he might agree.
Instead, he leaned closer.
The movement was slow enough that I felt it before I fully registered it. The space between us narrowing until the faint warmth of his breath brushed against my ear and sent a quiet shiver down my spine.
“But I think you are,”he whispered in a heady, seductive tone. The words settled between us with a quiet certainty that made it impossible to dismiss them as teasing or assumption. Hence why I simply stood there, not knowing what to do. And the most unsettling part was that a small, treacherous part of me wondered if he might be right. Or if I just wanted him to be.
Fuck, I was so confused!
I didn’t know what I wanted, and that was honestly what terrified me the most.
As for Oblivion, the quiet certainty in his voice lingered long after the words themselves had faded. It would have been easier if he had sounded teasing, or dismissive, or even arrogant. Because then I could have brushed it aside as just another piece of the strange, overwhelming puzzle that Oblivion seemed to be.
But he hadn’t.
He had said it with absolute conviction.
And unfortunately, that meant my mind, stubborn as ever, began searching for something safer to argue about.
Which inevitably brought us back to Bo because, right now, that seemed like a safer conversation to have, which in itself was ironic and that was why I asked,
“Will you let Bo stay?”
