Page 270

I let out a long breath. “Okay.”

His brow tightened. “Okay?”

I stood, and Veyr stood with me. I crossed the space between us, and he stayed where he was, watching me come. I stopped close enough to touch him and kept my hands at my sides.

His gaze dropped from my face to my mouth and then returned to my eyes.

Slowly I raised my hand, and his attention fixed on the movement. My fingertips touched his cheek—warm, solid, real—and beneath his neck the silver-white ŭre stirred faintly, not bright, just there.

His breathing changed, and I felt it against my mouth before I heard the word.

“Talia.”

“I know.”

I let my thumb brush along his cheekbone, slow, and he went still under it. “I’m still angry.”

“Yes.” No argument. Just the fact, laid down between us like a card.

“I still don’t trust you completely.”

His eyes darkened, and he looked away for a moment before answering. “I understand.”

“But I believe what you told me.”

That reached him. His breathing changed first—a longer inhale, a slower release—before anything showed in his face.

“I will not lie to you,” he said.

“Don’t promise impossible things.”

His brow tightened. “What?”

“Everyone lies.”

He thought about that. “I can avoid deliberate omission.”

I considered it, turning the words over. “That one I’ll take.”

I rose onto my toes.

He did not meet me halfway. He waited instead, hands at his sides, letting me close the last inch myself.

His mouth met mine, a soft press of warmth where before there had been only force. No desperate pull, no bruising grip, no wildfire consuming reason. Just the careful slide of his lips against mine, a question held in the stillness between breaths. The ache in my chest wasn’t from impact but from the sheer control in his stillness.

My fingers found the nape of his neck, and his breath caught—a sharp, quiet intake of air that shuddered between us. The kiss deepened, his mouth opening just enough to taste the morning on my lips. His hand rose, hovering at my waist, a breath away from contact. I could feel the heat radiating from his palm through the thin fabric of my shirt.

“Touch me,” I whispered against his mouth.

His hand settled against my side, solid and warm. The silver-white light beneath his skin brightened, pulsing in time with my heartbeat, and I felt the low vibration of it humming through my shirt like a captured chord.

His mouth found mine again, a slower, deeper press this time. My hand came up to his jaw, his stubble rough against my palm. His breath hitched when my fingers slid into his hair, and I felt the low hum beneath his skin intensify, a current answering my touch. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him until I could feel the solid beat of his heart against my chest. The kiss turned hungry, a silent conversation of teeth and heat and shared breath that left my head spinning.

He was the one who broke it, pulling back just enough for our foreheads to rest together. The air between us felt charged, thick with the sound of our ragged breathing.

“Why did you stop?”

His eyes remained closed. “I don’t want you to mistake this for forgiveness.”