He was quiet, deathly so.
‘Is it done?’ she asked, her voice a whisper.
She received no response, but she heard his hoarse breath. A moment later, she turned. His hand moved with her body, shifting over her stomach, leaving a trail of heat in its wake as he held onto her. Blood roaring in her ears, she faced him.
Because he was leaning against the table, they were finally eye level, though his eyes were closed. She stood between his knees, their faces separated by a distance so paltry she could almost taste him, if only she put out her tongue.
It was disconcerting to see his face this close; she had the urge to run her fingers through his hair, down to the planes of his cheekbones, drifting lower until she reached his mouth.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
He still had not opened his eyes. He leaned closer, inhaling deeply.
‘You smell like …’
He opened his eyes, and the breath lodged in her throat. She could hardly see the green in his eyes; the pupils were blownwide, a bottomless black. He stood abruptly and she tilted her head back to look up at him.
His hand tightened at her waist, pulling her closer. His gaze went to her lips.
She wondered if he would kiss her. She had not been kissed in some time. Her terrible experience at sixteen had deterred her from love, but not from dalliances. She had kissed plenty of boys in the two years since that summer—always strangers, travelers who didn’t know who she was, and most importantly, always just the once.
She never got her heart involved.
To kiss Xander now was surely a bad idea; she knew that. But the way he was looking at her … she couldn’t help but draw nearer, her entire body pulsing in anticipation.
‘Bisma,’ he whispered, his voice strangled.
His free hand came up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and he cupped her face, his fingers soft against her neck. His skin was so warm it felt intoxicating.
He was trembling, as if exerting a great deal of power in holding himself back.
She bit her lower lip, hard enough to feel pain. ‘Yes?’
He opened his mouth—to say something or to kiss her, she would never know. For at that exact moment, Luna roused.
Bisma startled back, out of Xander’s reach. Her heart hammered.
Feeling hot all over, she rushed to her sister’s side.
Luna groaned, blinking blearily.
‘She’s awake,’ Bisma said, turning back to Xander.
He shook his head as if waking from a trance, or a dream, then slapped both his cheeks with his hands a few times. She thought she heard him mutter a curse to himself before he came over to Luna’s other side.
Together, Bisma and Xander helped Luna sit up.
‘What happened?’ Luna asked, turning to Bisma.
Relief poured through her at hearing Luna’s voice, at seeing her open brown eyes.
‘You’re okay,’ Bisma said, pulling Luna into her arms. ‘You’re okay.’
‘But what happened?’ Luna asked. She groaned. ‘I feel terrible.’
She pulled back, her gaze going to her arm, which was covered in stitches. Her eyes widened.
‘You were sick—poisoned, like Mei was, I think,’ Bisma explained. ‘But you’re alright.’
