Page 160 of Smoke, Mirrors, & Misdemeanours

“A tiny bit more,” she whispered, her voice soft as the dust motes dancing in the air between them.

He moved it again. Silence descended, thick and heavy. For a long moment, they both just stared at the solitary frame on the immense, barren wall—a single promise waiting to be kept.

“Perfection,” she whispered.

He turned.

The world narrowed to this single point of light and dust and him. Afternoon sun poured through the tall window, blazing a halo around his form, but she saw only his face. The dust smudged on his cheekbone. The faint sheen of sweat on his temple. The stunning, devastating ache in his eyes that unraveled her completely.

He took one step forward. Then another, as if pulled by a string tied to her very core. The photograph fluttered from his fingers, forgotten.

Her breath hitched. She blinked against the sudden, hot sting of tears.

And then she was moving.

Her feet flew across the floor, grace and hesitation forgotten. She launched herself into him, and his arms locked around her—a solid band across her back, another cradling her shoulders, pulling her into his chest with a force that stole her breath. She buried her face in his shirt, inhaling sawdust and familiar spice, the frantic rhythm of his heart. His hand tangled in her curls, his breath ragged and broken against her temple.

“Ark,” she whispered into his shirt, the name a plea and a prayer. “Ark.”

His arms tightened around her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t let you—” She pulled back, just enough to look at him, her eyes burning. “I thought I was protecting you. Your father was dying, and I was the complication you didn’t need. I thought if I let you go, you could focus on what mattered. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

He kissed her. The days of silence and separation poured into the press of his mouth on hers—raw, desperate, inevitable. His hand closed around her wrist, the grip of a man who had no intention of letting her retreat from this again.

She tasted salt on his lips and realized she was crying.

“I know,” he whispered. “I’ve always known.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. They stood there, foreheads touching, breathing—as if making sure the other was real, and solid, and not about to disappear.

He pulled away and brushed his thumb along her cheekbone, wiping a tear. “There isn’t a single cruel bone in your body, Cassia. I knew, even before I saw my father. I knew you were breaking your own heart to try and save mine.”

Those words struck her like light through glass. He never doubted what they had together. In his mind, her betrayal had never outweighed the truth of who she was. He was always like this. While she had flinched and faltered, tried to outrun the ache in her chest, he was solid. Unmoving in his certainty.

She looked up at him, eyes shining. “You waited?”

Ark gave a soft huff, the barest shake of his head. “You didn’t think I’d let you go that easily, did you?”

Cassia’s laugh broke on a breath. Her fingers curled into the lapels of his coat, grounding herself in him. In the heat of his body. In the scent she knew too well to ever forget. Ark’s hand came up slowly, brushing her hair back behind her ear. His palm lingered against her cheek, thumb tracing a curve like he was relearning the shape of her.

“I’ve missed you,” he confessed.

She leaned into his touch, lashes fluttering low. “I missed you too. Every day. I just didn’t think I had the right.”

His lips met hers again. This time, it wasn’t rushed. It was steady. Sure. His other arm came around her waist, anchoring her to him, and she let herself sink into the kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck. There was no performance in it, only the quiet press of need and knowing, the taste of something she hadn’t realized she was starving for until now.

They parted, just barely—her breath catching, his eyes still closed.

Then he pulled back a little, frowning.

“How did you find this place?” he asked. “I was going to show you when it was finished. A surprise.”

Cassia couldn’t suppress a small, disbelieving laugh. “Your mother brought me here. She showed up at my house and drove me here without telling me where we were going. Whose house is this, anyway?”

“It used to belong to the Halewick family. It fell into neglect. Aegis & Ash bought it, cleansed it.” He stopped and faced her. “Now, it’s for you. For Starlight.”

Her heart stopped. “For Starlight?”