Page 91 of The Girl Who Inherits the Dead

“You are, by far, the best thing to happen to me in my life, and I wish I never hurt you.”

Words escape her, and she lets her eyes fall away to the familiar lines of his throat, to his chest, until she’s staring back down and away.

“I wish…” he trails off, and waits until Gurlien disappears down the stairs into the basement as well, before he gently, ever so gently, lifts her chin up to him.

She freezes, everything warring inside of her.

Of course being this affectionate with him is a bad idea, especially after everything she knows. Of course she doesn’t know if she can still trust what he’s saying, if she can believe his words. Of course allowing this touch pounds against her heart, floods her veins with how bad of an idea it is.

But now she can see the red reflected in his eyes, can tell without even thinking that his heart beats just as fast as hers. That his feet are cold and his shoulder is just tight enough to ache and that a non-zero amount of his attention is focused still on the magic in her hand, like it’s impossible for him to not dedicate a small part of his brain to the threat.

And he’s still holding her chin up, despite it all.

Her lips part, and his eyes flicker down to them, louder than anything in the room.

“Delina,” he says, and a question lingers in his tone, somewhere behind a trace of desperation.

It’s a bad idea. It’s all a bad idea. Him being here at all is a bad idea. Her sitting here and feeling the warmth of his touch and the fire in his blood is a bad idea. Her not immediately fleeing from this situation, her not using whatever defense she might have against him.

But instead, she just looks up at him. At his handsome face, creased with worry and a bit of fear as well. Like he’s steeling himself up.

She’s seen this before, with him. Seen the fear, seen the desperation, seen the want. Seen the almost critical vulnerability in his hesitations, in the barely there tremble of his hand.

It was there right before he kissed her the first time, all the way back in undergrad.

It’s definitely a bad idea, but she wouldn’t move away right now, sitting on that old floral couch with cabin beams high overhead, not if you gave her all the money in the world.

“I love you,” he whispers, barely audible, and it zings over Delina’s skin. “I know you don’t believe me, but I love you.”

And she’s not sure if she leans forward or if he leans down, but their lips meet, and then she’s not thinking anymore.

His hand gentles on her chin, tracing glimmers of fire, his mouth opening against hers. He’s tender, he’s careful, he’s cautious.

Right until he’s not.

She can’t pinpoint the moment, but the hair on the back of her neck raises, almost a sense of danger, like catching a glimpse of lightning across the sky, the hint of a storm before it unleashes a torrent. A scrape of the stubble on his cheek, a tension across his shoulders, his tongue darting across her lips.

Her breath hitches, and he freezes, motionless against her. His hand still hot against her chin, his heart still pounding just as hard, before he pulls away, his eyes flashing red.

She doesn’t move, and neither does he, still too close to be probable for anything else, until the telltale clomp of feet up the basement stairs sends both of them scooting apart.

“So in theory it’ll be safe,” Gurlien says, breezing into the room and completely ignoring the flush on Delina’s face and the redness of Maison’s lips. “According to the—”

“—very limited,” Chloe interrupts.

“—research we have, this doesn’t cause any active harm on demons that normal mind control wouldn’t cause on humans.” He gestures for them to get up from the couch, oblivious. “So don’t make him harm himself and he’ll be fine.”

“Were you spending that time checking for the dangers of this?” Delina asks, after probably too long of a beat, and Gurlien nods, insistent. “Uh, thanks?”

Her heart’s still pounding in her throat, her stomach still tight.

“Yes, yes, we wouldn’t want to lose him as a resource,” Gurlien replies, waving his hand, and Chloe rolls her eyes. “Do you want outside or basement? Basement we have the extra traps, but that might neutralize it, and outside has all the variables.”

“Outside,” Maison finally says, voice a bit distant. “She’s probably not going to be in a trap if she uses this in combat.”

Gurlien nods, like he had anticipated that. “The magic still there?”

Delina glances down at her hand, where the magic shifts almost restless. “Absolutely.”

---