“Yes.”
Her lips press together.
“And you.”
That one hits harder than the rest.
“Yes,” I say again, quieter this time.
Silence falls. Outside, thunder rolls low across the horizon. Inside, everything narrows down to the space between us. Tessa takes a step forward. Then another. My tiger rises, alert, focused entirely on her.
“You don’t get to make this decision for me,” she says, her voice steady now. Stronger. “You don’t decide what I can handle.”
“I wasn’t?—”
“You were,” she cuts in. “You thought staying away would protect me. But you didn’t give me a choice in that.”
She stops just a few feet away. Close enough that I can feel her warmth. Close enough that every instinct in me screams to pull her closer.
“I don’t run from things that matter,” she continues. “And whatever this is—” she gestures between us again “—it matters. Whether I understand it yet or not.”
Hope is a dangerous thing. I’ve learned that the hard way. But right now, it flares to life anyway.
“You’re sure?” I ask, my voice low.
Her gaze doesn’t waver.
“No,” she admits. “But I’m staying anyway.”
That does it. My control slips. Not completely—but enough that my tiger springs forward, a powerful, visceral reaction that floods my system with heat and instinct and something dangerously close to triumph.
Mine.
The word echoes through me, primal and absolute. I take a step toward her before I can stop myself.
“Tessa…”
Her breath catches again, but she doesn’t move away. Doesn’t retreat. If anything, she leans in. Just slightly. And that small movement is enough to snap the last thread of restraint holding me back. My hand comes up, hovering near her face, giving her time—giving her space to stop me. She doesn’t. So I close the distance.
My fingers brush her jaw, warm and soft beneath my touch, and the contact sends a shock through me that feels almost electric. Her eyes flutter. Her breath stutters. And my tigerroars.
The bond reacts instantly—tightening, strengthening, pulling us closer on a level I can’t fully explain but feel in every cell of my body. This is what I was afraid of. This. The point of no return.
“Tessa,” I murmur again, softer this time. “If we cross this line…”
“I know,” she whispers.
But she doesn’t step back. Doesn’t pull away. And that’s all the permission I need. I draw her closer, slow at first, giving her every chance to change her mind. She doesn’t. So when our foreheads touch, when her breath mingles with mine, when the world narrows down to just the two of us?—
I let go. Not completely. Not yet. But enough to know that everything has changed. And there’s no going back.
That hits. I see it in the way her shoulders tense, in the flicker of something almost fearful in her eyes.
“Your body isn’t betraying you,” I say, my voice lower now. Rougher. “It’s responding to something real.”
“Real doesn’t mean I have to like it,” she fires back.
“No,” I agree. “But it doesn’t make it less true.”
