Page 57
“What does it feel like?” he rasped, throat thick. “What does it feel like when I touch you?”
My face flamed in the darkness. “Before it felt like a hum. A vibration.” I hummed low in my throat, trying to feel the frequency.
“And now?”
“All I feel is you,” I whispered.
His mouth parted on an uneven breath. “I feel you too,” he rumbled. “Everywhere.”
We stayed like that for a long time, palms touching, souls linked.
I knew then in that moment that it didn’t matter how many years were spread between us or where we went after this, Royan Wolfe had carved himself into my bones.
I’d take him with me everywhere now.
Even when I couldn’t see him.
Even when I couldn’t feel him.
He would be with me, no matter what.
Eventually, the magic between us faded.
We collapsed to our backs in silence, staring up at the stars once more.
My hand tingled around his, no longer solid but back to that same hum as before. It was a somber reminder that no matter how close I could get myself to him, it would never be close enough. He would still fade, and I’d still be reaching for a hand that no one could see.
“I hate fish,” he said suddenly. “Hate the smell of it. The—the sliminess of them.” He shuddered. “Always have.”
I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself. “I hate the city. Everyone says that’s where you need to go for inspiration, but I never felt like I fit in there.”
“I prefer coffee over tea,” he confessed. “Never managed to tell anyone that before.”
My smile began to bloom like a flower in the spring. “I don’t know how to ride a bike.”
“I wished I had an older brother—someone to help me take the weight.”
“I wished I had siblings. Someone to grow up and laugh with.”
“Green is my least favorite color and I’m surrounded by it.”
“I wanted to be a marine biologist as a kid.”
“I wanted to be a pirate,” he said, lips twisting. “I wanted a life at sea. Probably for the best, though. I wouldn’t have made it.”
I chuckled. “I haven’t been on a date in over a year.”
He whipped his head toward me. “Impossible.”
“No,” I said, laughing. “It’s really not. I’m—I don’t think I’m good at it.”
“Impossible,” he repeated. “I’ve never heard anything more ridiculous in my life.” He fell silent, considering. “I’ve never been in love.”
A chill moved through me. “Me neither.” His hand tightened around mine.
“I wish—” His voice broke. “I wish I wasn’t dead.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. I blinked them back, fingers clutching his. “I wish you weren’t either.”
