Page 25 of Night Shift

“Why?”

“Because fear creates distance.”

“And you want distance?”

“I did.”

The words settle between us.

“And now?”

Erebus looks at me with those impossible eyes.

“No.”

There are moments when the world gives you a perfectly reasonable opportunity to make a good decision.

This is probably one of them.

I ignore it.

I lean toward him, but Erebus doesn’t move—not away, not closer. He simply watches me with such unnatural stillness that I stop a few inches from his face.

“You know,” I whisper, “this is usually the part where you meet me halfway.”

“I did not want to presume.”

“I’m giving you permission.”

Something in his expression breaks.

His hand comes to my cheek, cool against my skin, and then his mouth meets mine.

For someone who has apparently never done this before, he learns quickly.

The first kiss is careful, almost tentative, but when I slide my hand into his hair and kiss him again, something changes. His other hand finds my waist and draws me closer, and the restraint I’ve come to associate with him slips just enough to make my pulse jump.

He tastes faintly of chocolate.

Of course he does.

When we finally pull apart, his forehead rests against mine.

Neither of us speaks.

I smile first. “Well.”

His eyes remain closed. “Is that a favorable response?”

“Very.”

He opens his eyes.

I’ve never seen Erebus look uncertain before. Even when he doesn’t understand something, there’s a steadiness about him, the confidence of someone who has existed long enough to know that eventually everything reveals itself.

Now he looks almost stunned.

“You’ve really never done that?”