Page 153 of The Throne's Undoing

For the first time since she walked into his room, Kallie finally let herself truly observe Graeson. He wore a pair of simple black trousers that hung low on his hips. His cotton shirt was half-untucked as if he had tossed it on before opening the door. His black hair was a little more unkempt than usual, like he had been running his fingers through it nonstop, tugging on the ends as his mind stewed. The scar that ran across the left side of his face was even more visible than normal as a result.

Tonight, there was a wildness to him that intrigued her more than she probably cared to admit aloud.

For her entire life, she had been told every strand of hair had to be perfectly in place and every wrinkle flattened. But Graeson never seemed to care about that.

While Kallie did not know what he was to her, she certainly could not deny that she was attracted to him. She always had been.

"I want to feel as if the world does not exist for at least one moment. I want..." Kallie swallowed, the words getting stuck in her throat.

"Yes?" Graeson prompted, his fingers curling around the back of the chair that sat between them, almost as if it was some sort of shield. But Kallie didn't know if it was a shield protecting him or one meant to protect her.

She took a deep breath as her heart thumped louder and louder.

"I want to feel like I have some choice in what happens next. I want to forget the rest of the world for just one night." Kallie stepped closer and placed her hand atop his, the chair still separating them. "Can you make me forget?"

She could sense Graeson debating as he processed what she was truly asking him. The bump in his throat dipped, and she felt his fingers tighten around the chair.

Kallie had to give it to him, his restraint was admirable.

He was trying to do the right thing--the respectful thing.

"You've been through a lot today," he said, voice thick. "We shouldn't--"

Her fingers danced atop his hand. "I have told you once before: you do not get to tell me what I should or shouldn't do."

Graeson arched a brow, concern filling his expression. "This is a dangerous game, Kalisandre. Terin told me you have yet to use your gift since you awoke. Your emotions--"

"My emotions arefine," Kallie interrupted. "They are messy, but they're myown,and that is all that matters to me right now."

For over half of her life, Kallie's emotions had been twisted and manipulated. When she woke up after Cetia and Ellie had ripped her mind apart, she could still feel the remnants of Myra's manipulations, as if the fabric of her mind was still being unwound.

And then afterward, she had been dull, empty, and lifeless.

But whenever she was with Graeson, shefelt. She couldn't quite identify what the exact feelings she experienced were, but she realized she no longer cared.

Graeson didn't look at her as if she had destroyed the world.

He never retreated out of fear of what she would or wouldn't do.

And maybe she should have been more concerned that she hadn't used her gift yet, that she still feared it. However, it was one of the many things that she did not wish to think about right now.

She had once despised the fact that she couldn't accidentally manipulate him. But now, she was seeing it for the gift it could be because she did not wish to muddy whatever she and Graeson had.

With Graeson, everything wasreal. With him, she didn't have to question whether she had forced him to look at her with those searing eyes. She did not have to question what he wanted from her or why. He had never been after her power or her title.

Kallie did not care that their past, present, and future were messy. It was theirs and it was real. It was not something she had conjured up or manipulated into existence.

"Graeson, if you do not want this," Kallie said, taking another step forward, "if I have misread your feelings toward me, then tell me."

She looked past his shoulder toward the entrance to his room. When she lifted her hand as she made to point toward thedoor, Graeson snatched her wrist. He stepped around the chair and closer to her.

"You have not misread anything, Kalisandre," Graeson said, his silver eyes darkening.

"But?" she breathed.

The corner of his lip twitched, and he drew circles along the inside of her wrist with his thumb. The small movement sent a spiral of chills running up her arm. "Butwe haven't even talked about what this is between us."

"It doesn't have to be anything," she whispered, her free hand falling onto his chest and crawling up to the base of his collar.

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