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“You just did.”

“No.” She steps directly in front of me. “I said you’re still letting him decide what you do.”

That shuts me up.

Sage’s expression softens.

“You’re still afraid that wanting me means taking something from me.”

I can’t answer.

Apparently, I don’t need to.

She sees it.

“Ezra.”

I look away.

Her fingers close gently around my wrist.

Every muscle in my body locks.

Nothing happens.

No pulse beneath the floor.

No roots splitting through wood.

No whisper from somewhere beneath us.

Just her hand around my wrist. “Look at me.”

I do.

“I’m not Mercy.”

“I know.”

“I’m not the Bride.”

“I know.”

“And there is no Harvest here telling either of us what happens next.”

My throat tightens.

“No.”

“Good.”

Her thumb moves once across my skin.

“So stop asking what it wants.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what do you want?”