“Breakfast sounds great,” I said quickly.
Ash brightened instantly. “I can run ahead and get your food ready!”
“Ash, you don’t have to—”
“I want to.” He bounced on his toes, a grin stretching across his face. “I like doing stuff for you, Seph.”
And gods help me, I melted.
I reached out, taking his hand. For a moment, his fingers closed around my glove like it was precious. Like he didn’t realize how dangerous it could be for me to hold on longer.
I let go before I had to, flexing my fingers against the sudden hollow absence of warmth.
Ash didn’t seem bothered. He beamed at me one last time, then dashed out the door with a gust of wind that lifted my hair off my shoulders.
The moment he was gone, the room fell still.
Dev hadn’t moved.
He was watching my hand.
“So,” he said.
“So?” I echoed.
“You touched Ash?” His voice was calm — too calm.
I curled my fingers into a fist. “You make it sound dirty. I held his hand.”
Dev’s mouth tugged into a low, knowing smile that sent heat up my neck. “It’s just interesting, that’s all.”
“I can touch,” I said defensively. “To an extent. Unless I’m emotionally overwhelmed. Then all bets are off.”
“You can?”
He stepped closer, the blade flipping silently between his fingers.
“It took me a long time. Years,” I said. “When you’re alone in a room, it’s amazing what you figure out about yourself. I can control it on most of my body. Except—”
“Your hands,” he finished for me.
“My gloves are a good shield. They need to be. My hands are like… conduits. Most of it focuses there.”
“But that’s not why you wear gloves.”
“Yes and no,” I admitted quietly. “I spent a long time with no autonomy. I’ve never really known what it’s like to be…”
I hesitated.
“Touched,” Dev said, voice lower now — something warm and dangerous flickering beneath it.
I gave a small, sheepish smile. “Yeah.”
He watched me too closely. Too intently.
“Would you… would you ever touch me?” Dev asked quietly.
I stilled. “Do you want me to?”
