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One side of her mouth lifted in a curious smile, honey eyes melty and holding his. She stopped at the dining table and smoothed her hands over a cushioned stool. The light in her eyes that had disappeared after the break-in, but now she was beaming brighter than he’d ever seen.

Infectious, the smile spread to him, the humor, and he closed in behind her. Arms around her middle, he breathed her in as he traced his lips along her neck.

“How much time do you think we have?”

“Not much,” he murmured, leaning closer and kissing where her sweatshirt met neck.

“You’ll marry her anyway.” His grandmother’s warning flashed in his mind.

Maybe it wasn’t Eryn? Marriage was a long fucking ways off, but whatever threatened Eryn was going to make a move soon.

Eye burning hot, vision blurry, he huffed a long breath.

Air. He needed a goddamn rush of it. Now.

Around the table set for the entire team plus two, past the velvety sofa, past the oversized beanbag chair, and the empty library. Toward the wall of windows. He rushed open the slider and stalked outside.

Cool air filled his lungs.

Maybe it wasn’t Eryn, or maybe… fuck. Maybe his grandmother was wrong.

“Are you okay?” Eryn moved to his side and rested her forearms on the deck rail.

Vann smeared his hands over his face. “It’s too late.”

“What do you mean, it’s too late?”

“I… fuck, I don’t even know. But it’s too late, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Sex would have been way fucking better right now, but he couldn’t think past that damn prophecy.

Prophecy. Fuck that. A mean old hunter’s bedtime story.

“Eryn, look. Before… before we go any further… I need to tell you everything. I fucked all this up, and—”

Before he could confess everything. Before he could tell her she wasn’t going to live much longer and it was his fault, the damn doorbell rattled the walls of the house.

Dammit, Quinn. His best friend had amazing and terrible timing.

Misty wind rushed over him, and he looked over at Eryn. Eyes flashing, searching, she stepped closer.

He wasn’t making any sense.

She tipped her chin up and steadied him with a look.

Drawn in, magnetic, he leaned in and touched a careful, dreamy kiss. As he drew away, he let her know with a look, that it wasn’t her fault.

That he regretted his own actions, not hers.

That he wished he could shut up his brain long enough to enjoy a carefree couple of hours together.

As if a wordless handful of seconds could tell her all of that.

Lay it all out. Maybe she’d run, but she was doomed anyway.

As he crossed the house, he sniffed back the last few minutes.

He opened the door and blocked it with his body.