Chapter 26 | Kincade
She was still asleep.
I hadn’t moved. Couldn’t bring myself to. My hand remained on her ankle, thumb resting against the bone. Such a small point of contact. Safe. Allowed.
It wasn’t enough.
The memory had been circling since she’d mentioned Spain. Green silk and crystals, her hand clutching mine as we moved across that dance floor. I’d spent the last three hours replaying it while she slept.
I feel ridiculous.
She’d been tugging at that gown like she wanted to disappear into it, completely unaware that every man in the room had stopped to look at her. Completely unaware of what it was doing to me.
You look magnificent. Stop fidgeting.
I’d said it like it was nothing more than a casual observation. What I’d meant was, You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and if you don’t stop moving, I’m going to touch you in ways that have nothing to do with this mission.
She’d blushed. Muttered her thanks. Thought I was being flippant.
She had no idea.
I’d pulled her onto the dance floor.
Just follow my lead.
An excuse. That’s all it had been. An excuse to pull her closer, to put my hand at her waist, to feel her body move with mine. She’d been terrified of dancing. I’d been terrified of how much I wanted her.
My hand had been warm at her back. Steady. Certain.
A lie.
Inside, I’d been coming apart. The way she’d looked up at me, violet eyes wide, pulse hammering in her throat. The way she’d stumbled over her own feet and laughed at herself. You really are bad at this, Anna. I’d teased her to keep from saying what I wanted to say.
And you’re perfect.
She’d blurted it out, then tried to play it off. But I’d seen her face. Felt her heart racing when she pressed her hand to my chest.
My own heart had been pounding as hard as hers.
I’d said her name on a breath. Her lips had parted. She’d been ready. I’d been ready. My head had dipped, my mouth so close to hers I could taste the anticipation—
Then chaos. Everything going to hell.
I’d never gotten to kiss her.
Later—after everything went sideways, after we’d escaped—I’d gotten close again. Closer than I should have.
She’d asked me to unzip her dress. Such a simple request. Such an impossible ask.
I’d stood behind her, swept her hair over her shoulder, the dress parting under my fingers. That expanse of bare skin, the curve of her spine, the way her breath had hitched when I touched her. I’d felt her tremble. Felt my own control fracturing.
I’d leaned in. So close I could have kissed her shoulder, her neck. So close I could taste the want.
But I’d stopped myself. Because crossing that line would have changed everything.
She’d stepped away, thanking me like I’d done her a favor instead of torturing us both.
I should have pulled her back. Should have turned her around and finished what we’d started on that dance floor.
I didn’t.
And now I couldn’t. Not without her nervous system attacking me. Not without causing her pain.
Vormund had taken everything. The necklace. Her autonomy. The choice.
My thumb moved absently against her ankle. This was all I had now. This careful distance. This fragile permission.
Outside, the sky was beginning to lighten. Dawn crept through the blackout curtains in thin gray lines. She shifted in her sleep, her breath evening out.
I should move. Let her wake up without me hovering. But I didn’t.
I stayed where I was, watching her, remembering Spain, and wondering if we’d ever get back to that almost-kiss.
She stirred. A sigh in her sleep. But no nightmares. That was progress.
Her eyes blinked open. For a long moment, she focused on me. Then pulled her legs away and sat up.
“Have you been there all night?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
She dragged her fingers through her tangled hair. She looked like she wanted to ask why but didn’t. Instead, she got up, moved away into the kitchen, leaving me sitting there with a heavy weight pressing through me.
She started coffee, then trudged through to bathroom. Minutes later, the shower came on.
I couldn’t sit here all day and think about the past. Especially a past that was long gone. I needed air. Outside, I walked the perimeter. But this place was so remote, I doubted there was any real threat other than a feral squirrel.
By the time I got back inside, she was sitting at the table with a half-empty mug in front of her and expectation lighting her eyes. I knew that look.
I stopped, keeping the distance between us.
“I want to try something today.”
Dread coiled in my chest. Whatever she was about to propose, I wasn’t going to like it.
Warily, I said, “What is that?”
“I want you to move fast toward me. I want to see if I can control it.”
“We tried yesterday.”
“Not really,” she said. “That was a test. I want to try again. But make it count.”
“You mean you want me to trigger you,” I said.
“Yes,” she said with a nod. “But for real this time.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” Her face creased in frustration.
Why not? Did she want me to break her? Because I could, easily.
“I think you know the answer to that.”
She was undeterred. “I want to try.”
I heaved a sigh. “Anna—”
“It’s the only way I’m going to learn,” she interrupted. “It’s the only way we can—”
She cut herself off, exhaled sharply and pressed her lips together, peering down into her mug.
“The only way we can what?”
She waved it away, not wanting to say it. Then changed the subject. “I need to know if I have any control at all. Right now, it feels like I don’t. And I hate it.”
She said the last with such vehemence, it didn’t sound like her at all. But I understood. She was used to being in control. Even with her Godlight, she’d always been in control.
“Why can’t I hear you in my head?”
She pivoted again so quickly it was like whiplash.
My spine went rigid. Because that had never been something she had to ask before.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” she said, “I can’t hear you like I used to.”
Her gaze was still pinned on the mug. Like she was afraid to look up at me. Afraid to see the truth in my eyes.
The truth was I’d shut myself off from her. I’d pulled away. I didn’t want to go poking around in her head. Not after what they’d done. It felt like lighting a match to a powder keg.
I’d tried once before, in the fortress, but something was blocking us. The fortress itself. Her inability to reach me through her own power. Or something else.
She lifted her gaze then. “You turned it off, didn’t you?”
I had never intended to bond with her in the first place. But when the Fallen high lord captured me, I saw the determination in her eyes. She was always so transparent. Her emotions had never learned how to hide.
Now, since they’d altered her, she was more guarded. More in control of her emotions. It was harder for me to read her.
“I didn’t think it was a good idea.”
Her expression went flat. She looked away, absorbing that. Then, “We can do a controlled test.”
She wasn’t letting this go. She was nothing if not persistent. And everything in me resisted.
“I know why you don’t want to. But I don’t want to be the weapon that destroys you.” Her gaze flickered up back to me. Still guarded. “You’re the only one who can help me figure this out.”
The way she looked at me said everything. She was willing to accept the risk if I was.
Everything in me wanted to refuse. To tell her no and mean it. But she was stubborn, and I knew that look. If I didn’t agree, she’d find a way to do it without me. And that was unacceptable.
“Fine,” I said. “But we do it my way.”
She nodded. “I thought you’d say that. But I have another idea.”
“Anna—”
“I know what will trigger me. Work with me here.”
She stood, already dressed and ready, as if she anticipated my agreement.
“Ground rules, right?” she said. “And if I say stop, you stop?”
“Yes.”
I hated this.
She moved to the center of the small living area. I remained where I was, turned to face her.
“After the… procedure,” her voice hitched, “they put me in a room with the guard who smacked me.”
And that guard would be dead someday.
Her cheek still hadn’t healed and was held together with butterfly strips. But then, my wrists hadn’t healed either. I changed the bandages daily.
She flexed her fingers. “We can recreate that test.”
“How did that go?”
“He came at me. I saw him coming and defended. After that, he was afraid of me.” She grinned.
That’s my girl. Even when they tried to break her, she came out swinging.
“Move toward me when you’re ready.”
She drew in a breath and let it out. Centering herself.
Like she wasn’t about to turn into something lethal. She looked far too calm and controlled. I’d seen it before in men I’d trained. She was ready to allow that reflex to take her over.
She reminded me of… me.
Every instinct screamed not to do this.
But I was doing it.
I moved toward her in an attack stance. Closing the distance in three strides.
Instantly, her eyes changed. Pupils dilated.
The programming taking over. Her body coiled tight as she prepared to take the hit, then countermove.
Her hand came up, fingers wrapping around my forearm, twisting my arm, and then she shoved me backward.
I grabbed her free hand with mine. Instantly she stopped then cried out. Her other hand flew to her head as she jerked away from me, stumbling back into the side table and knocking over the lamp. It fell and shattered.
She doubled over, breathing hard, fingers pressed against her temple.
Fuck. The pain. Fighting the programming was hurting her.
My only relief was I didn’t have the knife at my belt.
“Okay, so…” She panted, straightening. “That didn’t go as planned.”
“You think?”
“I know what happened, though. I felt that cold place in my head, but I couldn’t find the control.” She was working through it, still rubbing her temple. “And when I tried to stop… God, it hurt.”
“No kidding,” I said, though there was nothing funny about watching her in pain.
Her gaze flicked to me then. “I didn’t hurt you.”
I frowned. “This time.”
“You’re holding back,” she said. “I can tell.”
“For fuck’s sake, Anna.” I couldn’t treat her like the enemy. Like someone I wanted to hurt.
But she forged on. “I think I can find the control next time. We should go again.”
I pulled one controlled breath, exhaled it. “After we clean up the broken lamp.”
“Oh. Right. I’ll get the broom.”
She was undeterred as she headed into the kitchen to retrieve it.
I sighed. She was more of a handful than she ever was. And twice as reckless.
We tried four more times. Four more failures.
Each time a different approach. Eyes closed.
Focused on breathing. Trying to anticipate that cold place in her head.
Nothing worked. At some point, we shoved all the furniture out of the way to keep it out of her destructive path.
We were both exhausted and frustrated. And yet, she was still ready to go again.
“One more time,” she said.
“No.”
“Once more and I’ll leave you be.”
“No, you won’t,” I countered. “You’ll pester me tomorrow.”
“Probably,” she said with a nod. “One more today.”
“You’re going to be the death of me, woman.”
“Eventually. But not today. So again?”
I relented. “One more and then I’m sending you to your room.”
She laughed. “Ha. A veiled threat.”
I lifted a brow. “Are you sure?”
She froze, indecision playing on her face. Like she was considering whether I’d make her do it. Truthfully, I couldn’t make her do anything. She was a force.
She turned her back. “Let’s try it this way. You come from behind.”
I groaned.
“Not like that!” she exclaimed. Then flashed a glare.
She readied her stance. I counted to ten, hoping for the element of surprise. I took two steps, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and then she elbowed me in the gut in a half-hearted attempt—
Then she went rigid. A small sound escaped her throat. Pain, effort, something caught between the two. Her whole body trembled against me.
Then—
Stopped.
She went completely still, breathing hard.
I didn’t let go. I held her there and felt the tension drain from her muscles, little by little. First from her shoulders. Then from the rigid line of her spine.
“I… did it,” she whispered. “It hurt like hell, but I did it.”
She was so close, I could feel every trembling inhale. Every trembling exhale. My arm clasped around her shoulders as her back pressed against my chest, the slight weight of her settling against me with a recognition so sharp it burned. It had been absent for far too long.
Lavender soap mixed with her natural honey-warm scent lingered on her skin and filled my lungs with a heady, velvety sweetness that begged for a taste.
Neither of us moved.
She turned her head. A breath shuddered out of her.
“You can let go now.” Her voice shook.
I didn’t want to. I didn’t think she wanted me to, either. But I did anyway. Enough for her to step away. When she turned toward me, she looked flustered. Her cheeks were pink.
“Okay, well. That was good progress today.”
I couldn’t help it. The corner of my mouth lifted. “Good progress?”
“Yes.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, not meeting my eyes. “Very scientific. Data collected.”
“Mm-hmm.”
She shot me a look. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Whatever you’re thinking right now. Don’t.”
But it was too late. Something loosened in my chest. She was flustered. And I was the cause.
That was progress, too.