Page 159 of Feralheart

He didn’t call me on it. He didn’t need to. The way his hand lingered a second too long before letting go said everything.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re good at this,” he said, his voice low and husky.

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

He cocked his head, his gaze seeking mine. “Is that where we’re going now?”

The words hung between us. Challenge and invitation and dare all at once.

“Where else?” I said.

“Pity,” he murmured, softly enough I almost missed it.

He sat so close, I could see the exact gray of his eyes, darker around the pupils, lighter at the edges. If I leaned forward and he leaned forward and⁠—

Neither of us moved.

His gaze dropped to my mouth long enough it felt like a touch.

He leaned back, putting distance between us. “We should get up.”

“We should.”

Neither of us moved. The air between us felt charged with all the things we’d learned about each other through magic we couldn’t control. We were both scared of what happened next.

“This can’t happen,” I said, but my voice had lost its conviction somewhere between his thumb on my wrist and the way he’d looked at my mouth.

“You’re right.”

“You’re the crown prince. I steal food from your kitchens.”

“I’m well aware of that too.” Frustration flickered across his face. “But our dragons have already decided, so perhaps we don’t get a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“Is there?” His gaze dropped to where my hands rested on my lap, the red lines glowing beneath the salve. “Because from where I’m sitting, we’ve both been choosing this for longer than we’re willing to admit.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The words came out harsh, but I couldn’t soften them. “You’ve been choosing between privileged options your whole life. I’ve been choosing between survival and death. Those aren’t the same thing.”

“You’re right again,” he said quietly. “They’re not.”

“You are the crown’s most beautiful weapon, Fenian Lancifer,” I said in a low voice.

“Right three times.” He wrapped his fingers around my wrist again. His thumb found my pulse point and stayed there. His breathing went shallow.

Every part of me screamed to put distance between us before this became something I couldn’t undo.

His thumb pressed harder, feeling my heartbeat kick.

“Eradin—”

Selira’s warning growl vibrated through the open area.

Others appeared in the cavern, some riding their dragons, others landing hard on the ground like we had, equally soaking wet, their dragons coming in separately.