Page 27 of Ira

“I think that’s a perfectly natural way to feel, Verner. Grief complicates things and sometimes it’s hard to reconcile those conflicting emotions.”

“Did you ever have that with your father?” he asked, catching me off guard.

“Well… yes,” I admitted. “I think I’ve probably idealized him a lot in my head since he died, especially since Mom was so absent. But if I’m honest with myself, I doubted he’d have been any more sympathetic than she was when I got kicked out of the Hunters. They were both very image conscious.”

“You understand then,” Verner said with a wistful sigh. “It was already complicated, but then my father wiped her entirely from the records, and claims that I am his firstborn. That it’s always been this way. My parents act like she never existed.”

“Why?” I asked, failing to hide the horror in my voice.

“At the time, he claimed he was humiliated by how she’d died. Ashamed that a Hunter had been the one to do it. Perhaps it was just a cover-up for his own grief.”

I understood that a little. Mom hadn’t gonequitethat far, but there had never been any pictures of Dad in the house either. The few occasions she’d brought him up seemed more like a slip of the tongue, and she’d always gotten immediately snippy afterward.

“Regardless of his reasons, it makes my already difficult relationship with my parents even more strained. And I know when the staff at Sunlis look at me, they see her. The heir they adored and expected to serve someday.”

“Will you tell me her name?” I asked softly.

Verner smiled, his golden-yellow eyes warming my face like sunshine. “Elisaria. Her name was Elisaria. I haven’t spoken it aloud in years. Thank you for letting me talk about this with you, Meera.”

“You can always talk to me, Verner. You do so much for me—including plenty of things that I’m sure I don’t even see. I want to be there for you too.”

“You already are. I’d be quite lost without your company, you know. I feel a sense of…peacearound you that I’m not accustomed to feeling.”

There was a little flutter of warmth in my chest at his words, followed by a wave of abject terror at what that little flutter might mean.

Because what if Ilikedhim?

The dream still haunted me. And I craved Verner’s company like I’d never craved the company of anyone else. I felt comfortable physically touching him. He made me laugh, he listened when I confided in him, and he was opening up to me in return.

Where was the line between friendship and something more? I didn’t have enough experience of either to know.

On top of that, there was nothing more viscerally upsetting to me than the concept of catching feelings for a guy—man or monster. Verner was incredible, but I still didn’t trust my own judgment.

Verner’s nose twitched. “I’m sorry, was that too much?”

I cursed internally at my stupid scent giving any hint of negative emotion away.

“No, not at all. I feel super at peace around you too. ” He didn’t seem convinced by that, and I hurried to explain myself. “Sorry, I’m just overthinking things I guess. I’m not used to having friends.”

“What part are you overthinking exactly?”

Damn it, I hadn’t really expected him to ask a follow-up question. But I should have, shouldn’t I? Verner paid attention. He listened, like every word out of my mouth was valuable and worth hearing.

There was a sort of gooey, affectionate feeling in my chest and I scrunched my eyes shut, bracing myself for scent impact. Why did he have to be so wonderful? So comforting and safe and easy to be around? It made me… want things.

Things I hadn’t let myself want for nearly a decade.

“Meera,” Verner rasped, inhaling deeply. The movement brought his face closer to mine, so close that he could probably feel my breath on his jaw. “What is going through that beautiful mind of yours?”

I was a goner.

The one time I should have been overthinking it, I didn’t. I leaned, half rolling so that the entire front of my body brushed against the side of Verner’s, and touched his lips softly with my own.

It was immediately clear that it was nothing like kissing a human, even though it had been eight years since I’d done that. Verner’s lips were hard and inflexible—or maybe he just didn’t know how to use them?

Was he kissing me back?

Oh my god.

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