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It was nice—listening to him exist.

I thought of my apartment in New York. It was noisy from the street below but inside…it might as well have been a tomb.

I couldn’t think about that right now. All I wanted to focus on was this.

I did as he asked and took my time, soaking in the tub until the last of the cold left my fingers and toes. I lathered my skin in lotion, took my time applying my makeup, and did my hair so that it fell in waves down my back. The dress from the pub hung in the closest and I moved toward it, remembering the last time I’d worn it.

He’d been so adamant about not touching me, using my own hands instead.

Now, there would be no need.

I shivered, now knowing Wolfe well enough to know that this was his chance to do it right.

I slipped my heels on and checked my reflection in the mirror.

The woman staring back at me was one I didn’t recognize. I didn’t need the blush. With the wind from today and the promise of what awaited me, my skin was already cherry red. My eyes were bright, lips twisted into what felt like a permanent little grin.

I walked plenty in New York, but the walks twice a day added shape to my legs that I’d never had before. My face was fuller, cheeks no longer hollowed out and haunting.

I looked healthy.

Happy.

I twisted my ring around while I waited. The scent of something delicious wafted up from downstairs and my stomach gave a low, whining growl. I didn’t have to wait much longer. A soft knock came at the other side of the door and I smoothed my clammy palms down my dress.

“Breathe,” I whispered. “You’re fine.”

I crossed the room, heels clicking, and twisted the knob.

Wolfe waited on the other side, a new thistle in his hand. He wore the same clothes from earlier, but it looked as if he’d tried to finger-comb his hair to subdue the wildness of it. It still fell across his brow, permanently tangled in the breeze. I loved it. It was endearing to see.

“For you.” He held the thistle out to me, purple petals shimmering in the light. “You look beautiful.”

I ducked my head, feeling more bashful than usual. Last time he’d told me that, things were still safe between us. Now I was in a freefall, ground rising up to meet me at an alarming rate.

“No?” he asked, stepping closer. “You don’t believe me?”

I opened and closed my mouth twice, unable to speak.

“Would you rather me tell you that looking at you makes it hard to breathe? That I am desperate enough for you that it’s taking everything in me not to lay you down right now? To show you just what you do to me?”

I flushed bright red, heat snaking and moving through my body. He was the one that made it difficult to breathe. That made every inch of me shake and tremble with longing.

He moved into my space, hand cupping my jaw. “You are always beautiful, Avery. It does not fade or wither. Every time I look at you, I am reminded of it. And not just this,” he said, touching my mouth, my cheek, the corner of my eye. “But this.” He leveled his hand over my heart.

“Royan.” I leaned into him, hand sliding up his chest.

His eyes guttered, fading to black in the shadows. “Witch,” he murmured. “You have to be.”

My lips twitched the smallest bit. “Maybe.”

His chuckle was breathy as it floated between us. “Dinner first. I want to do this right for you.” He moved away from me and I almost begged him to come back. “My lady.” He held out his elbow, expectant.

I slipped my hand through the crook of it and allowed him to lead me back downstairs. The sitting room had been cleaned and rearranged, a book on the coffee table next to a folded blanket and my favorite bowl of chocolate.

“For later,” he whispered.

Anticipation rolled through me and I nodded, heart climbing up into my throat.