Page 51 of Lost in Fire

“You make it sound simple.”

“The best plans usually are.”

We stand in the kitchen’s soft light, his hands warm on my skin, discussing our mutual disappearance like any other logistics problem. But underneath the practical conversation, I can feel the pull between us—the magnetic attraction that’s never diminished despite decades of separation.

“I’ve missed this,” I admit. “Having someone to share the planning with. Someone who understands the stakes.”

“I’ve missed everything about you.” His voice drops to that intimate register I remember from stolen nights. “Your mind. Your strength. The way you make me feel like anything is possible.”

“Hargen—”

“I know we have years to work through, Vanya. Conversations about why you let me believe you were dead, decisions about how to help Ember understand her heritage.” His breath grazes my face, warm and clean. “But tonight, I just want to be grateful that you’re alive. That we found each other again.”

The careful distance I’ve been maintaining crumbles. This close, I can see the gold flecks in his brown eyes, can smellthe familiar scent of his skin, can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing.

“I dreamed about you,” I confess. “Every night. Even when I tried not to, even when I knew it was dangerous to remember, I dreamed about you.”

“What did you dream?”

“This. Standing close together, talking about normal things. Being a family.” I close my eyes. “I dreamed about the life we would have had.”

“We can still have it.”

When I look at him again, his expression is intense, focused entirely on me. Like I’m the most important thing in his universe.

“Can we?” The question sounds so small. “After everything I’ve done, everything I’ve become—can we really have that?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. No qualification. Just absolute certainty.

He leans in then, and it feels inevitable. Like the moment I’ve been waiting for. Longing for. The kiss begins soft, tentative, testing boundaries that have been carefully maintained since we first saw each other again. But the moment our lips touch, the years of separation collapse into nothing. The careful control I’ve maintained, the strategic distance, the protective walls—all of it crumbles under the weight of finally being touched by someone who knows exactly who I am.

His hands slide into my hair, and I’m drowning in sensation. The taste of him, the heat of his body against mine, the desperate hunger I’ve kept buried for so long, it’s become part of my bones.

“Vanya,” he all but groans my name.

I pull back just far enough to meet his eyes. “Take me to bed.”

The words hang between us for a heartbeat. Then he’s lifting me, carrying me down the hallway toward the bedroom. My legs wrap around his waist, my face buried against his neck, breathing in the scent of his skin.

The bedroom door closes behind us, and then we’re alone in the lamplight, years of separation and longing solidifying into this single moment.

“Are we making a mistake?” he asks, setting me down beside the bed.

Instead of answering, I reach for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head.

“I think everything we did before this was a mistake,” I tell him, running my eyes over the hard lines of his broad chest, admiring the play of light over muscle.

His hands find the buttons of my blouse, working them open with exquisite care. Each piece of fabric that falls away feels like another layer of the Shadowhand being stripped away, leaving only Vanya—the woman who’s been buried under years of deception and strategic necessity.

When we’re both bare, he cups my face in his hands, studying my features like he’s memorizing them.

“You’re even more beautiful than I remembered.”

“I’m older. Harder.”

“You’re perfect,” he whispers.

He guides me back onto the bed, following me down, and then we’re a tangle of limbs and desperate touches. His mouth finds mine again, and this time there’s nothing tentative about it. This is hunger, pure and simple. Need that’s been denied for far too long.

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