Page 55 of A Sunwoven Ascent

His mind stumbled. His mouth, traitor that it was, moved first.

“I cannot get over you.”

The words landed between them like a confession laid bare, too honest and too swift, and for one suspended heartbeat he was certain he had ruined everything. Heidara went still, not with coldness or anger, but with a quiet, searching look, watching him as though she meant to understand every part of him he had never intended to reveal.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve just never…” He gave a rough shake of his head, searching for words that would not reveal how completely undone he felt. “No one has ever made me feel—”

His eyes betrayed him anyway, dropping to her mouth where she caught her lower lip between her teeth. It was a small thing, perhaps thoughtless, yet it struck him like a blow to the chest. He was falling too quickly, and there was no graceful way left to deny it.

One of her brows lifted, as though she could hear the words he couldn’t manage to say. Then she reached for him.

“Alaric.”

The way she said his name sent something in him off balance. She took his hand and guided it to her chest, pressing his palm against the firm pulse beneath. It was not teasing. Not temptation. Only trust.

“So you know,” she murmured, close enough for him to feel the warmth of her breath, “it isn’t only you.”

He felt that quick, living rhythm beneath his hand.

“I’m nervous around you too,” she said, her voice dropping softer. “But it’s… a good kind of nervous. Like whatever this is between us could be something very right.” She paused. “And yet—”

“I do not want to ruin it,” he breathed.

“Neither do I.”

Slowly, as though nearing something sacred, he drew his hand away and let it settle at the back of her neck, his thumb resting where her skin was warm and unguarded. Heidara leaned into the touch as if she had been waiting for it. Their faces drifted closer. Her lashes lowered. His heart hammered hard enough to mortify him. Surely she could hear it. Surely she could feel the way his restraint was unraveling, thread by thread.

“This,” he whispered, his mouth just above hers, “is better than anything I have ever known—”

He broke off, as though stopping himself might keep the rest of him from breaking with it. The next words left him rougher than the last.

“I am so sorry,” he said. “For what I did to you. For the pain I caused you, Heidara. I never meant—”

“You would never have hurt me by choice,” she cut in at once, as though she would not permit him to turn cruel against himself. Her eyes flashed. “Now kiss me.”

A soft, helpless laugh escaped him, half relief, half disbelief. His hand tightened gently at the back of her neck, and at last he gave in to the moment he had been aching toward—

“Aw, would you look at that.”

The voice behind them came thick with ale and malice.

Alaric froze. Beneath his hand, Heidara’s body went rigid.

Beau stumbled closer, each step carrying the sour reek of drink and something fouler beneath it. “So this is what it’s come to?” he slurred. “Getting close with the demon boy now?” His mouth twisted in a laugh too loud for the quiet camp. “Well done, Heidara. I knew you were easy, but really…” He shook his head, grinning meanly. “Still chasing the human? Pathetic.”

There wasn’t much ale to be had while they were on the move—no tavern, no easy barrels passed around a crowded room. The packs kept what they had for ritual nights, for celebrations that mattered. Which meant Beau had been desperate, reckless, or both to get at it now. And from the way he swayed, he was doing a fine job of trying to drown whatever was eating him alive—at the expense of everyone else.

Alaric’s fingers remained at Heidara’s nape, steadying her, steadying himself, even as the moment they’d been about to share slipped away like smoke.

How dare he try to humiliate her like that? Alaric remembered the first night Beau showed up, the way Heidara had gone still, the color fading from her face as though someone had pulled all the warmth from her. He had not asked about it. He could not. But he had noticed. She looked the same now: pale, motionless, held for one heartbeat too long.

This time, though, it was not fear on her face.

It was fury.

“Beau,” Heidara said, the word sharp as a snapped command. “You’ve had far too much to drink. Go back to your tent.”