Chapter 12 #3
Hayden shifts beside me, the edge of his coat brushing my hand, and every nerve ending in me wakes up.
I glance at him just as he glances at me.
The air tilts. My breath shortens. I study the curve of his mouth, the faint stubble along his jaw, the way his chest rises and falls like he’s holding back something he’s not sure he should let out.
“What are you thinking?” I breathe, afraid a full voice might shatter whatever this is.
His gaze drops to my mouth, then back up. I swear I feel it, like he touched me without moving. Something flickers behind his eyes. Hunger, maybe. Or hesitation.
“I’m thinking”—his eyes drop to my mouth again, slow and deliberate—“that I don’t want to overthink things for once.”
My heart stutters. I don’t move…not away, not closer. I’m suspended in the space between us, caught in the gravity of him. He leans in, slow enough to stop or to change his mind. Slow enough that I feel every inch of the space between us collapsing. Like he’s giving me the chance to change my mind.
I don’t.
We’re so close now I can feel the heat of his breath against my lips.
I catch the gold ring around his irises, and for a split second, I swear I see every century he’s lived flicker there.
Hungry, afraid, and wanting. My pulse drums in my ears: Please, please, please.
His hand lifts, slow and cautious, his fingers brushing my jaw, featherlight.
His thumb ghosts over my cheek like a question I want to answer with my whole body.
With everything I am.
Hayden moves closer, nose brushing against mine, and I swear something in the air snaps. The feeling right before a storm breaks. The one right before a life changes. My breath stumbles and my knees threaten betrayal. And every nerve in my body lights up like they’ve been waiting centuries, too.
Still, he doesn’t kiss me. Torture masked as patience. There is almost a live wire between us.
Instead, his forehead drops against mine, and he exhales a shaky breath that catches in my chest.
“This feels…” he starts, then stops.
“Yeah,” I whisper, and what I mean to say is It’s everything.
Then he closes the final inch and the world just…ignites.
Not tentatively. Not sweetly.
Like a match to gasoline.
The first brush is heat and hesitation all at once, and I gasp, leaning in, meeting it with a hunger I didn’t realize I’d been carrying.
He responds instantly, lips pressing deeper against mine, teeth grazing, tongue sliding past my lips like he’s done holding back.
Like this kiss has been living inside him too long and it’s finally clawing its way out.
His hand slides from my jaw to the back of my neck, anchoring me there.
And fuck, I need it, because the second our mouths really crash together, I forget how to stand.
I clutch his coat, fingers fisting in the fabric.
Not to pull him closer—he’s already there—but to keep from floating away.
He groans into the kiss, low and raw. I feel it in my bones.
It shifts. Grows hungrier and needier, like we’re making up for lost time.
When we finally break apart, we’re both panting. Our foreheads stay pressed together, our breaths mingling and hearts pounding like they’re racing to memorize each other’s rhythm.
But it’s not just us reacting.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see them again.
The dim light shifts, just barely. Shadows ripple across the floor, stirred awake by more than sunlight. They creep up the walls, faint and flickering like tendrils of smoke, drawn to us, to him, as if they want to take shape around the exact center of this moment.
They aren’t menacing. Not sharp or dark in a way that feels wrong. If anything, they seem…soft. Gentle. They move like breath, syncing to his heartbeat, as if they know this is sacred.
Hayden stiffens, his jaw tightening like he’s afraid this is the part where I’ll finally see too much.
But I don’t let him pull away.
“Hey,” I murmur, sliding my hand to the back of his neck, fingers threading into the long hair there, grounding him. “They’re beautiful,” I whisper, afraid they’ll spook if I say it too loud as they swirl up the stacks, showing off.
His breath catches. I feel it against my cheek, shallow and shaky. He hovers for a moment, then speaks. “They’re never like this. Usually, they…linger at the edges. Wait for me to call them, I suppose.” He swallows. “But now? I don’t think they want to leave.”
I blink because I can feel them. They press close, warm where our coats meet. It feels like being held, not haunted.
“They’re drawn to you, Levi Wilder,” he adds. “They don’t usually…choose.”
I huff a quiet breath, my lips brushing the corner of his jaw. “Well, I am incredibly charming,” I murmur. “Maybe they’ve had enough of your brooding and wanted to take another vibe out for a ride.”
He lets out something between a laugh and a groan, and I watch the tension melt from his shoulders.
“Perhaps,” he says, voice frayed as he traces my lip with his thumb. “I’ve wanted to do that longer than I’ll admit.”
I smile, breathless, pressing my forehead to his. “I’ve wanted it since hello.”
His shadows retreat, drifting back to the corners. They’re satiated.
Even they have been rooting for us.