His fingers paused, brushing tenderly against her temple as he tucked back a loose strand of hair. There was a gentleness in his touch that matched his words.
She huffed, a short awkward laugh. “Right. Not like my virtue matters now anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
Elora’s mouth filled with sand. She hadn’t realized what she said until it spilled out of her mouth. “I…umm…” She searched the fire, the flames dancing toward the sky, somewhere carrying an answer that wouldn’t cause her to crumble in front of him.
“You’ve been with someone before?” She met his gaze for only a second, expecting him to be disgusted. That’s what Tehvan made her expect, wasn’t it? But Rell only looked at her with concern. It wasn’t an accusation. “Did Tehvan know?”
“He umm… He didn’t know until after. There were no alarm bells for him to think anything was wrong. No lust. No desire.” Her hands trembled in her lap, her thumb nail digging in her palm so hard, she thought she might dig right through her skin. “I hardly even remember it. I wasn’t there. Like… mentally.”
Elora didn’t know what she expected—revulsion, pity, awkward silence. But not this. Not the way his gaze held her without a flicker of judgment. Like what she said didn’t change anything. Like it made her more real, not less.
Her heart twisted.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice barely audible.
“For what?” Rell asked gently.
She opened her mouth, then shut it. She wasn’t even sure. For telling him. For being broken. For wanting more.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. Her fingers clenched again in her lap, her pulse screaming beneath the press of her thumb.
And Rell saw it.
He reached out, and gently wrapped his hand around hers, lifting it from her palm, breaking the cycle.
“Stop hiding,” he murmured. “Just for a second. He’s not here.”
She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t.
Her hand lay limp in his, suspended between them. The pressure she’d been applying to her pulse had left an ache in her thumb.
Tehvan wasn’t here. But his ring still was.
He couldn’t see her now, couldn’t speak her name, couldn’t step between her and the storm of her own desires.
But he could feel it.
The flutter of her heartbeat, the way it stumbled and stuttered beneath her skin.
He would know something was up.
He always knew.
He’s not here.
Not in the trees, not by the fire, not in this moment that felt like it belonged to her and her alone.
She stared at their joined hands, her breathing uneven. Her thumb twitched—wanting to return to its place, to keep pretending. But instead her fingers curled slowly around his.
If Tehvan could feel the heat building beneath her skin, if he could sense the want slowly blooming in her chest—Let him.
He’d taught her that desire was dangerous. That control was love.
But Rell had taught her something else entirely.
He didn’t take. He didn’t push.
