Page 107 of The Girl Who Should Be Dead

“When this is all done,” he starts, hushed in the morning air, “we can spend all the time in the world figuring out how to put things into words.”

When it’s all done.

She stills, blinking at him in the soft lights.

“It’s hard to think about,” she says, after a long moment. “What after would be.”

“I could believe that,” he says, just as quietly. “When your entire existence is bent towards one thing, comprehending anything else is foreign.”

And that’s exactly it.

And he would know.

His hand is still on her back, warm against the sleep shirt, and he’s still wearing the pajamas from the motor home, even though they’re too short on his ankles.

His face is tired, he had complained after about hour three of walking along the Paris streets, but his eyes are sharp and aware, like he knows how weighty it is for her as well.

“I’m glad I’m here with you,” she whispers, and it’s far more vulnerable than she wanted it to be. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to do this alone.”

His lips part, his eyes flickering down.

“I’ll admit, the kidnapping was a rough way to start,” he says, and she huffs out a laugh at that. “But…” He trails off, deliberately so, like he’s trying to suggest something she can’t quite understand.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re using subtext and I’m not getting it.”

This breaks his face into a smile, before he pulls hertightly in, so her head leans against the crook of his shoulder and her chest is pressed against his.

She squeaks in surprise and feels rather than hears his chuckle.

“I’m glad I get to take them down with you.”

She briefly considers squirming out of the hold, before she settles her forehead and listens to the rise and fall of his breathing.

“I never thought I’d be this far along in taking them down,” he continues, his voice a low rumble against her ear. “But before three weeks ago I didn’t think I’d ever break into their base and release a bunch of stasis chambers, so everything’s new.”

She tilts her head at him. He had done so much for the College and they had cast him aside, and now they’re getting what they deserve.

“And I didn’t think I would be…so close with a vastly unpredictable demon through the whole process,” he says, and his other hand settles in her hair, threading through the one side of her scalp in an almost hypnotizing mirror of the tight grip he had when they kissed. “But I’m not complaining. About that.”

Another laugh, and she smiles at him, impulsive. “You complain about a lot of things.”

“It’s one of my talents,” he replies dryly, then his eyes flicker down to her lips again, and the seriousness of it strikes her.

He’s not drunk this time. She’s not impaired.

His hand is already in her hair, the other on the small of her back, and they’re already touching so much there’s hardly a part of her body that’s not in contact with his.

And she wants more. Again.

He inhales, like the want is across her face, and it very well may be.

“Ambra,” he starts, voice low, but he’s not pulling away. “Stop me if I do something you don’t want me to do.”

“Of course,” she replies. “I can blow up buildings, I’ll stop you if I need to.”

His brain visibly skips a beat. “Stop me before we get to that point.” And his eyes, his intelligent eyes, focus down on her lips again.

“Of course,” she murmurs, struck by something halfway between embarrassment and need, and the tip of her nose burns warm.

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