Page 199 of Feralheart

Her hands had loosened on her knees, her fingers uncurling the way I’d watched Aristus release tension he’d held for years.

Not trusting yet.

Just choosing not to guard quite so hard.

That was everything.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

ERADIN

The fire burned low between us, turning Fen’s face into angles I wanted to trace with my fingers.

There was a quiet to him now that hadn’t been there a short time ago. Before, every movement felt controlled. He’d held himself rigid. Now he felt looser. He’d finally set something heavy down, and I sensed he wasn’t going to pick it back up again.

He hadn’t even tried to fix his hair I’d messed up. That kept catching my eye.

The elite camp had gone quiet. They’d given up on him returning. Or they were plotting.

I needed to climb inside my tent. Lyndie was probably waiting, and tomorrow would try to kill us in new and inventive ways. Sleep was practical. Smart. I was physically and mentally exhausted.

I got up. My feet were supposed to carry me to my tent. That was the plan. The safe choice. Instead, I walked around the fire.

The distance between his side and mine felt like crossing the boundary between elite and commons. Except this time I was choosing to cross it in front of anyone who might be watching from the elite camp.

Like him.

My knees wanted to buckle halfway there. I made them keep going.

I sat beside him on his bedroll.

The warmth from his body hit me first. Then his scent, leather and spice. My shoulder nudged his arm, and I didn’t pull away.

I felt more than heard the slight hitch in his breath that said he hadn’t expected this.

Our hands rested on the ground between us.

He’d stopped hiding. I was the one still learning how to be seen wanting something.

I shifted my pinky. Barely a movement; enough that it brushed his skin.

My finger curled, hooking around his. He curled his back, linking them together.

One finger. That was all. My pulse throbbed in my wrist. Heat climbed up my arm, settled in my chest, spreading lower. This felt more dangerous than kissing him had. More deliberate. There was no excuse this time. No magic forcing us together. No trial-induced madness.

Just choice.

Selira spoke through the bond, so faint it might’ve been my own imagination. Finally.

“We should sleep,” I whispered. “Tomorrow⁠—”

“You’re right.”

But neither of us moved.

The fire snapped. Sparks spiraled up into the dark. His pinky stayed linked with mine, a single point of contact saying more than any words could.

“They told us the sky wasn’t ours,” I said softly. “But falling for you is more dangerous than flight.”