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“Exactly.” Luka steps closer, close enough that I can see the determination etched into the lines of his face. “We’re getting out of here, Aisling. And once this is over, I’m taking you home.”
“Careful, Luka,” I warn, but my voice lacks bite. “You don’t know how dangerous Lianna Rossi can be.”
“Maybe.” He shrugs, and there’s that maddening smirk again. “But I’d risk a lot for you. For us.”
“Us?” My pulse races, but I hold his gaze. “We’re not an us, Luka.”
“You know, I don’t mind. You can treat me like you treat them,” he says softly, and the air between us crackles with something raw and unspoken. “If you wanted.”
It’s only when he stops that his words start to sink in. I open my mouth to argue, but the words don’t come. Instead, I step back, put space between us because if I don’t, I might just start believing in the possibility of ‘us’ too. I press my back against the cold wall, watching Luka’s silhouette solidify from the night as he eases himself inside. “You’re being brash.”
“Maybe,” he concedes, pushing the window shut with a soft click. His eyes find mine in the dark. “But you’re worth it.”
A nervous laugh escapes me, and I cross my arms to stop the shiver that isn’t from the chill. “You know I’m claimed by Gunnar and Oberon.”
He nods, stepping forward until I can smell the city on him—smoke and rebellion. “I mean, you made them believe you were dead and…”
He stops talking when I glare at him.
“I didn’t mean anything by that. Whatever your attachments are, it doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, Aisling.”
I want to scream at him. Attachments? I love them. I just have to do this. But then I look at his face, and I can see that there’s no malice there. He means every word he says, and it makes my stomach twist in knots.
“Friends,” I echo, and somehow, the room feels smaller with him in it. Friends don’t look at each other like that—with hunger in their eyes.
“Come here.” He gestures to the edge of the bed, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I comply, not trusting my voice as I lower myself beside him. We sit in silence, a gulf of unsaid things stretching between us.
“It’s lonely,” I admit at last, the confession slipping out like a whisper. “My whole body is screaming for something I can’t have.”
“Your pack?” His voice is low, a note of understanding—or is it jealousy?—lacing his question.
“I miss them so much.” I rub my arms, starved for touch. I don’t just miss them; I need them. “I don’t know how I’ve stayed sane.”
“Your mark,” he says, and his fingers brush against the stars tattooed over my pulse, across the numerous bites left there by Gunnar and Oberon—the claiming mark, a tether to my reality back in Pacific City. “They’re still here. Even when you came out during the ceremony, I smelled them on you.”
“That doesn’t make it any better,” I whisper.
Luka’s hand lingers, his thumb tracing the outline of the tattoo. “Let me help you forget, even if just for a moment.”
“Friends don’t—“ The protest dies on my lips as I look up and see something else there, something that goes beyond friendship, beyond claims and ownership.
“Friends care,” he interrupts, and the space between us crackles with a charge I can’t name. “And I care about you, Aisling. More than you know.”
Luka’s hand is warm on mine, a contrast to the cool air of the temple room that now seems to shrink with each breath we take. The simple act of his fingers lacing through mine sets off a reaction deep inside, a spark that ignites a longing I’ve been trying to smother.
“Your touch…” My voice trails off, but the words hang there, heavy with all the things I can’t say. It’s going to drive me crazy? It’s too tempting?
That’s the one.
And he’s here in my bedroom, so close I can taste him.
“Does it help?” he asks, and there’s a rough edge to his whisper, like he’s fighting back his own demons just as hard as I am.
“More than you could know.”
My admission feels too raw, too exposed. But then again, Luka isn’t just anyone. He’s always seen through me, when I was claiming Gunnar, when I was running from the Eclipse and the Angels alike.
