Page 73 of Too Dangerous To Die

He nods, slowly. “We need to destroy the artifact.”

“Not yet,” I say, voice shaking. “There’s more it’s hiding. We need to understand it… before it understands us.”

He looks like he wants to argue. But he doesn’t.

He just wraps his wings around us both.

And I feel, for one fleeting second, like maybe we still have a chance.

35

NORA

Rhaegar’s arms tighten around me, his wings cocooning us in a world apart from the cursed ruins, the whispers in the stone, and the broken reflections of the girl I was—and the woman I could still become. For a breath, we are still. For a breath, I can feel only him.

His forehead rests against mine, our breaths tangled and uneven. His magic still sizzles against my skin, and mine… mine won’t calm. It thrums inside me like it’s learned the rhythm of his soul and refuses to forget it.

I should pull away.

I should tell him we need rest, a plan, anything to anchor us back into logic.

But when I open my eyes, I see the war behind his. And worse—the guilt.

“You were slipping,” I whisper.

He closes his eyes. “I was falling.”

“I pulled you back.”

“You shouldn’t have had to.”

There’s no accusation in his voice, but it cuts deeper than if he’d shouted. I slide my hand to his cheek, dragging my thumb down the edge of a new scar that wasn’t there yesterday.

“Ichoseto,” I murmur. “You’d do the same for me.”

“I already have.” His voice is hoarse. “And I’d do it again. A thousand times. But that doesn’t make it right.”

There’s something in the way he says it. Final. Doomed. Like he’s already decided this is the last time he’ll let me save him.

No.

I won’t let him carry this weight alone. I won’t let guilt steal what little peace we have left.

So I kiss him.

Soft at first, just the brush of my lips against his, a question.

He answers it by deepening the kiss, his fingers sliding to the back of my neck like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he lets go. There’s nothing gentle in the way his mouth claims mine this time. No desperation. No survival.

Onlywant.

It starts there, with the tremble in my hands and the shudder in his breath. Then it becomes more.

His magic licks over my skin as I push him back against the nearest wall. He doesn’t resist. Doesn’t flinch when I press my body flush to his, threading my fingers through the ruins of his shirt, dragging it away to feel the strength beneath.

I need this.

Not just the heat of him. Not just the burn that coils in my belly.

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