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Not because he’s crying.

Not yet.

Because his body can do that again.

One spills over anyway.

Rhett touches it. Stares at the wetness on his fingertip.

Then he looks at me. There is absolute fucking terror on his face.

“I can feel everything.” His stomach growls.

Loudly.

He flinches.

Another tear falls.

His lungs drag in another shaky breath. His heart keeps hammering. His skin keeps warming beneath my hands.

Every part of him that has been silent for two hundred and thirty-five years is waking up at once.

And Rhett fucking Winslow drops his head against my shoulder and sobs.

My own tears start again. I wrap my arms around him.

He grips me so hard, it hurts but I don’t care. For two hundred and thirty-five years, this man hasn’t had a heartbeat and now it’s back. “I can smell you.”

I almost laugh through the tears. “You could smell me before.”

“No.” His voice is muffled against me. “Not like this.” He breathes me in then starts laughing. “I can smell the fucking soap.”

I cry harder. “That’s what you’re excited about?”

“Yes.”

“You’re an idiot.”

He pulls back and touches my face with trembling fingertips. “They’re cold.”

“What?” I ask, tilting my head at this beautiful man.

“Your cheeks.” He looks at his own hand like he’s never seen it before. “I can feel temperature.”

Malakai sits back stunned. Ezra stares at Rhett. And suddenly I understand why neither of them is celebrating. Because if the Harvest gave Rhett his life back… what does it expect him to do with it?

Rhett sees their faces and his smile fades. “Don’t.”

Malakai looks at him. “You’re alive.”

“Yes.”

“No.” Malakai grabs his wrist again. “Rhett.”

Something in his voice makes my stomach drop.

“What?”