"I like you," he said. "I more than like you. I think I've been waiting for you my whole life without knowing what I was waiting for. And I know that's terrifying. I know you have everyreason not to trust me. But I'm asking you—I'm begging you—give me a chance to prove that I'm different. That this is different. That you can be safe with me."
A tear slipped down her cheek. Then another.
"Okay," she whispered.
"Okay?"
"Yes." The word was barely audible, but it rang through him like a bell. "Yes, I'll give you a chance."
He pulled her close, not into a kiss—that would come later, somewhere private, somewhere he could take his time—but into an embrace. He held her against his chest and felt her arms come around him, felt her face press into the hollow of his throat, felt her body shake with something that might have been tears or laughter or both.
Around them, the music played on.
Someone—probably Lila—let out a whoop that was quickly shushed by others. The Sanderson sisters were smiling, Thallos could feel it even without looking. The whispers had taken on a different quality now, warmer and more approving.
He didn't care about any of it.
He cared about the woman in his arms. The chance she'd given him. The future stretching out before them, uncertain and terrifying and full of possibility.
"One more dance?" he murmured against her hair.
She pulled back just enough to look at him. Her eyes were red-rimmed but bright, and a smile—a real one, finally—curved her lips.
"One more," she agreed. "And then you're buying me dinner."
"Deal."
He swept her back into motion, and this time she followed without hesitation.
The night was young. The music was sweet. And somewhere between one step and the next, he stopped being afraid of falling and simply let himself fall.
CHAPTER 15
The vine wound itself around her wrist like it was trying to hold her hand.
Marigold laughed, gently disentangling herself from the overeager grape plant that had decided she was its new favorite person. "You're as bad as your owner," she murmured, brushing her fingers along the leaves in apology.
Behind her, Thallos's voice carried across the vineyard. "Did you just insult me to my grapes?"
"I complimented them, actually. They have excellent taste in company."
He appeared at the end of the row, shirtless again because apparently the concept of sun protection was foreign to satyrs, and carrying two glasses of something pale gold. Sweat gleamed on his shoulders. His horns caught the afternoon light.
Her mouth went dry.
*A week,* she reminded herself. *It's been a week since the Town Square, and I still turn into a puddle every time he takes his shirt off. Get it together, Bloom.*
"Lemonade," he said, pressing one of the glasses into her hand. "Fresh. Made it this morning."
"You made lemonade?"
"Why do you sound so surprised?"
"Because last time you offered me a drink, it was wine that nearly knocked me unconscious."
His grin was shameless. "That was educational."
"That was entrapment."
