I caught her subtle inhalation as she drew the jacket tighter, breathing in my scent. That small, unconscious gesture sent arush of warmth through me that had nothing to do with the elixir still coursing through my system.
"Some spa day, huh?" I leaned against the railing, deliberately focusing on the city lights below instead of how the soft glow from the apartment caught in her hair.
"It was eventful," her smile was small but genuine. "But nice. I do feel better."
I glanced at her arm where the prophetic markings glowed with a steady blue light, not the erratic pulsing they'd shown before. "The prophecy markings look more stable."
"Yeah," she nodded. "And I haven't accidentally turned anyone into a ferret in at least 24 hours, so that's progress."
I laughed, the sound low in my chest. "Low bar, but I'll take it."
We fell into comfortable silence. Below us, the city sprawled in a tapestry of lights and shadows. Several hundred years of existence had taught me to appreciate these quiet moments, these pauses between chaos. They were rare in my line of work, rarer still in Winter's new reality.
I could feel her gathering her courage before she spoke.
"About what almost happened in the hot spring," she kept her voice deliberately casual, though I caught the slight uptick in her pulse.
"You mean before Hurricane Milo made landfall?" I kept my tone light, but when I met her eyes, I let my guard down enough to show the seriousness beneath.
"Yeah," she swallowed visibly. "That."
I turned to face her fully, no longer pretending interest in the cityscape. "I meant what I said, Winter. About the universe putting people in your path for a reason."
"And what reason would that be?" Her question hung between us, her eyes searching mine.
"I'm still figuring that out," I admitted, the truth easier than I expected. After centuries of guarded existence, this honesty felt both foreign and right. "But I know it's important. You're important."
"Because of the prophecy," she didn't frame it as a question.
"No," I shook my head immediately, needing her to understand. "Because you're you. Prophecy or no prophecy."
I watched something shift in her expression, surprise, vulnerability, a flash of something deeper. In my long life, I'd witnessed countless prophetic vessels, magical conduits, chosen ones. They all eventually became consumed by their destiny, losing themselves to the greater purpose. But Winter, she remained stubbornly, wonderfully herself through it all. Saltine-craving, sarcastic, compassionate, despite her circumstances.
"I don't know what to say to that," her voice softer than I'd ever heard it.
"You don't have to say anything," I reached out, allowing my fingers to brush against hers where they rested on the railing. An invitation, not a demand. "Just know that whatever happens with this prophecy business, you're not alone in it."
She turned her hand over, our palms meeting. Such a simple touch, but it resonated through me like a tuning fork struck against stone. I'd touched countless beings, in violence, in passion, in healing. Yet this simple connection of palm against palm felt more significant than most.
"Thank you. For everything. The protection, the yoga wisdom, the well-timed cultist killing."
I smiled, my fingers slowly intertwining with hers. "All part of the service."
"And the almost-kiss?" She raised an eyebrow, a spark of her usual boldness returning. "Is that part of the service, too?"
My smile turned wicked, a glimpse of the predator I'd spent decades trying to tame. "That would be a serious breach of protocol."
"We wouldn't want that," she echoed our words from the hot spring, her pupils dilating slightly.
"Definitely not," I agreed, though we both knew I was lying.
For now, this connection was enough, standing under the night sky, her hand warm in mine, the promise of something more hovering between us like the charged air before lightning strikes. I'd learned that some moments are meant to be savored, not rushed.
Through the glass door, I caught sight of Fenric watching us, his eye twitching so rapidly it was almost a blur as his fingers flew across his tablet. No doubt documenting yet another protocol violation to add to my ever-growing file.
Good. Let him watch. Let him document. Some rules were meant to be broken, and something told me that whatever was happening between Winter and me fell firmly into that category.
Chapter
