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He came down the stairs, his face pinched the way it got when he didn’t want to say something. His palms were warm on my shoulders when he held me. “I’m sorry, Nora.”
I tried for a laugh, but it came out breathy and weird. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I know how hard this must be for you.”
I let him pull me close, leaning into his strength. Burying my face in his chest, I took a long, shuddering breath as his arms closed around me. He smelled of too many hours traveling and something else, something feral and uniquely him. Closing my eyes, I relaxed into him, letting his safety cover me.
His voice rumbled under my ear. “You’re wrong, though. I do have something to be sorry for.”
I hummed, making the sound a question of its own, and held onto him.
“I’m not sure when I knew I could trust you, but it was long before I stopped using the coercion runes on you.”
Somehow, I’d managed to forget that part. Nearly being killed and watching a man offer up his life for you can do that. Pulling away, I met his gaze. The empath in me felt his remorse, felt the fear and hope mingling inside him as he gave his confession.
“I’m ashamed I kept at it, Nora.”
“Your mother was in danger.”
“That’s no excuse.”
I twitched a smile at him. “It’s a little bit of an excuse.”
His mouth quirked. “All right, it’s a little bit of an excuse. But I’m still ashamed of it. And if you ask me to, I will sleep on the porch until we’ve reinforced the warding on your house.”
Imagining him sleeping on the porch forced a laugh from me and I shook my head. “You are not sleeping on the porch. It’s nearly winter. In New England.”
His shoulders relaxed and his thumb began a gentle stroking at the small of my back. His gaze slipped to my mouth, and he leaned a little closer, his breath warm on my face. I tilted my head to meet him, smiling as his mouth hovered over mine.
“I have a perfectly good couch in the study,” I whispered.
He huffed a chuckle. “Fair enough.”
Then his mouth closed on mine.
