“Yes,” he murmured, a challenge threading his voice. “Careful. Or ready for the consequences of testing me.”
His hands tightened on my hips, pressing me against the wall, his leg easing between mine. My pulse skittered for a whole different reason, heat blooming where I could feel him.
I wanted more. More skin, more of him. Wanted to forget the meeting and the nightmares. To let it be only this.
“Maybe I’m ready for those consequences,” I breathed, noting the way his eyes dropped to my mouth.
My hands drifted lower, tracing familiar lines beneath the waist of his trousers until I found the solid bulge under my palm.
Reagan’s breath broke against my skin. I stroked him, savouring the low sound it drew from his throat, half groan, half breath, before his hand closed around my wrist and stilled me.
“Curses andBlessings.” Reagan rested his forehead against my neck. “As much as it pains me to stop this, I need to speak with you first.”
“Oh.”
The word landed like a bucket of ice, cooling all the heat inside me. This day was getting worse by the minute.
“No,” he murmured, studying my face. “Don’t do that. You know better. When I’ve said what I have to, I might just get on my knees if that’s what it takes to continue with your plans.”
A tiny laugh slipped out. “I might make you.”
He smirked. “I might go willingly.”
The next moment, the world vanished. Cold air rushed around us, sharp with pine. Stone met our feet, and I turned in his arms, my breath catching as I took in where he had brought us.
Far below, the city gleamed with yellow lights, scattered like pinpricks beneath the black sky. Even in spring, Mountheim was never truly warm, yet the wind should have been stronger out here on the ballroom balcony. Instead, the air curled around us, and I realised he must have been shielding us from the worst of it. Faint notes of a piano drifted through the open doors behind us.
Reagan extended his hand.
My eyes narrowed, and I wondered if he knew I had been slipping out here at night alone, but I took his hand regardless, setting my other at his nape. He drew me in by the waist and began to lead.
“When you arrived here, you weren’t treated properly,” Reagan said, voice low. “You were isolated. Afraid. And most of that was my doing. I wasn’t patient, and I didn’t treat you the way I should have.”
I frowned, trying to understand why he was raising this now. “That was months ago.”
“I know,” he replied. “But I never asked for your forgiveness. I never tried to help you adjust or explain what you were walking into. You were dropped into Mountheim without any real transition. Not like the one you’re trying to give Joy.”
I hummed. It wasn’t untrue, though neither of us had chosen how it had happened.
“You had more pressing concerns than the human you were stuck with,” I said quietly.
Reagan guided me outward, our arms arching wide before he drew me back in and his breath brushed warm against my temple. “I did,” he admitted. “But my point is, you had to adapt alone. You learned to deal with being torn away from everything familiar and face a lot of things by yourself.” His voice dipped lower. “And I’ve been wondering whether you feel well enough now to tap your access, or if something in you is still holding back.”
His gaze held mine, unflinching and searching.
“I don’t need you to hold my hand,” I murmured. “I’m fine.”
“I know you don’t.” He sighed. “Think of it like what you do for your sister. She doesn’t ask for help, but you’re there anyway.” His hand tightened at my waist. “If you’re feeling lost, then come to me, Jan. I’m here. I want to be here. There’s nothing more important than this. And you don’t have to deal with all of this alone. I’m trying to understand what you need, even when you’re not asking for it. But youwillneed help. I rely on five people to keep going.”
I let him guide our steps, easily figuring out four of the people he meant. Yet he said five.
“Say you forgive me.” Reagan pressed his nose to my hair. “And tell me you understand.”
“I understand,” I murmured, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “And you’re forgiven.”
He squeezed my hand, drawing me out again before turning me back into his chest. His arms circled my waist, his warmth a solid presence at my back. The city spread out before us.
For reasons I didn’t quite understand, his words left a sting behind my eyes. I knew what he wanted to know, but I didn’t know how to say it, spent too long deliberating over how to phrase it.
