Page 76 of Savage Devotion
"Tactical necessity. Couldn't complete the mission alone."
"Bullshit."
The word carries absolute certainty, and something in his voice makes me look up from the wound to meet his eyes. Rust-red and completely focused despite the head injury, seeing through my deflections with uncomfortable clarity.
"You came back because you care," he continues. "Because somewhere between the suspicion and the partnership, something real developed."
"Kaelgor—"
"I know you're scared. I know trusting someone means risking another betrayal, another loss." His thumb traces across my knuckles. "But what happened between us, what's still happening. It's not weakness."
The ember-stone flares brighter around us, responding to emotional intensity with increasing warmth. Or maybe I'm imagining it, seeing meaning in random phenomena because I want to believe in something larger than tactical convenience and shared survival.
"I betrayed your trust," I whisper. "My House sent spies, used information I might have provided?—"
"Your House. Not you."
"The distinction doesn't always matter."
"It matters to me."
Such simple words, but they carry weight that threatens to shatter every defense I've built around my heart. He's offering forgiveness for sins I'm not sure I deserve absolution for, trust despite evidence that trusting me is dangerous.
It matters to me.
I lean closer, ostensibly to check his pupils for signs of concussion but really because I need the proximity, need to see the truth written in his features. The ember-stone's glow turns his skin warm bronze, highlights the firm line of his jaw and the unexpected gentleness in eyes that can be hard as winter stone.
"Your head injury—" I say, but he cuts me off by pulling me down into a kiss.
It's different from our first kiss by the campfire. That was a passion born of relief and proximity, two people seeking comfortin shared warmth. This is a deliberate choice, a conscious decision to bridge the gap between suspicion and trust.
His lips are warm and soft and taste like copper from the blood, but underneath is something uniquely him, something that makes my heart race and my carefully maintained emotional distance crumble like sandcastles at high tide.
When we break apart, his forehead rests against mine, breath warm against my face.
"Forgive me," he whispers. "For doubting you. For letting fear override judgment."
"There's nothing to forgive."
"Ressa—"
"Nothing." I cup his face in my hands, thumbs tracing the sharp line of his cheekbones. "We both made choices based on incomplete information. Both tried to protect what mattered most."
"And what matters most to you?"
The question hangs in the ember-stone's glow, weighted with implications that extend far beyond immediate survival. What matters most? Mission completion? House loyalty? Personal safety?
Or something else entirely.
"Right now?" I kiss him again, soft and sure and full of promises I'm not ready to voice. "Getting you out of here alive."
"And after that?"
"After that, we figure out what comes next."
He nods, and I see acceptance in his expression. Not just of my words but of the uncertainty they represent. We don’t know what waits beyond immediate survival, but we're willing to find out together.
The ember-stone pulses around us, and for a moment I swear I can feel the mountain's heartbeat, ancient and steady and completely indifferent to human concerns. But the warmth thatwraps around us feels like a blessing, like the mountain itself approving of whatever bond is forming between a disgraced noble and a clan warrior.
