Chapter 25 Slow Burn #3
“To feel something you might not actually feel,” he murmured, pain flashing across his face.
“To be someone you’re not sure you want to be.
To love someone just because you loved him once, in a life you don’t fully remember living.
” He swallowed hard. “I don’t want to take advantage while you’re still processing all of this.
While you’re still figuring out who you are. ”
I tried to catch his eye, digging my nails into my arms. “But that’s not all of it, is it?”
He didn’t answer at first, fists clenching.
“No,” he sighed. “It’s not.”
I stepped closer. “Then what?”
He hesitated. When he spoke again, his voice was stripped of all the careful control he usually maintained.
“Because every time I’ve had you, I’ve lost you.
Nineteen times, Melanie, I’ve found you and loved you and watched you die.
And every single time, I believed—” He stopped, swallowed hard.
“I believed that time would be different. That I could protect you. That love would be enough to keep you safe.”
His hands fisted at his sides. “And it never was. You always slipped away, leaving me with nothing but ashes and grief and the promise of another lifetime, another chance to fail you all over again.”
He finally looked at me, and the pain in his eyes made my chest ache. Made my anger dissolve into something softer, more complicated.
“I’m terrified,” he admitted. “I’m trying not to push or make you feel like you owe me something because of who we were.
” His voice cracked. “I can’t—I can’t watch you die again.
I can’t hold you while life leaves your eyes one more time, and know I wasn’t enough to save you. I can’t survive it again.”
A beat of silence stretched between us, heavy with centuries of loss and fear.
“You’re not her,” he continued, gripping the edge of his desk until his knuckles turned white. “Not exactly. You deserve to choose who you are and what you want without me clouding that.”
Anger spiked hot in my chest again, but different now—not at him, but at the situation, at Cyrus, at fate itself. “So you just decided to make that choice for me?”
His head snapped up.
I stepped closer, close enough to see the storm in his eyes.
“You’ve already kept secrets from me. You’ve already shut me out for what you thought were good reasons.
And now what, you’re protecting me by deciding what I can handle?
” I squared my shoulders. “That’s not protection, Kian.
That’s not respect. Even with good intentions, you’re still controlling the pace.
You’re still deciding for me instead of with me. ”
He flinched as though I’d struck him.
But I wasn’t done.
“I know I’m not her,” I stated. “I’m starting to recall her memories, her feelings, her history. I’m still working on figuring myself out, but I’m a person, not a ghost. Not an echo of someone who died three thousand years ago. And I get to choose what I want.”
I pressed a hand to my chest. “What I feel for you? I don’t know how much of it is mine or hers.
But you don’t get to choose for me to find out what it all means.
You don’t get to decide for me that you’re not worth it or that loving you will kill me or whatever tragic, self-sacrificing bullshit you’ve convinced yourself of. ”
His mask cracked, a flurry of emotions fighting for dominance behind his eyes.
I stepped in until only inches separated us, until I could feel the heat radiating off his body, smell cedar and old books and something darker. “So what if I choose you? What then?”
His hand cupped my cheek. His palm was warm, callused from—what? Centuries of holding a scepter? Guiding souls? I didn’t know, but it felt right against my skin. His thumb brushed beneath my eye. The tension coiled between us like a drawn bowstring, seconds from snapping.
“You still want me?” he asked, barely above a whisper. “After all of this?”
“I want to know you,” I whispered back, my heart a wild thing in my chest. I leaned into his touch, into his warmth.
“Not just the version I remember in dreams. I want to know who you are now. What you love, what scares you besides losing me, how you take your coffee, and what makes you laugh. All the small, human things that make you who you are.”
The air between us felt electrified, like reality was holding its breath.
“Melanie,” he breathed, a warning and prayer all at once. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
I leaned in, rising on my toes to get close enough to tempt. “I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t sure.”
His forehead touched mine, and we both froze, breath tangling. The restraint in him was a live wire threatening to snap.
“I want to kiss you,” he murmured, voice stripped of all pretense. “But if I do, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”
I gave him a trembling smile, my own want echoing his. “Then maybe we don’t stop. Just… slow down.”
A broken laugh escaped him. “Slow burn, huh?”
“Burn me slowly,” I whispered, eyes fluttering closed as my lips hovered over his, nearly a breath away.
His lips brushed mine, just barely. The ghost of a kiss, feather-light, enough to spark fire through my veins and leave me starving for more. My fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer.
Kian gave a strangled sound in his throat, and he deepened the kiss for the briefest heartbeat. His mouth was warm, tasting of coffee and something sweeter. The kiss held centuries of longing compressed into a single moment, the kind of hunger that had lifetimes behind it.
Then he tore himself back with a gasp, chest heaving. But his hand stayed on my cheek like he couldn’t bear to let me go entirely. His forehead pressed to mine, his breath ragged and uneven.
“Melanie…” My name came out low, full of want and restraint in equal measure.
I shuddered at the sound, leaning up to kiss him again, needing more—
But the moment was shattered.
The door banged open with a sound like a gunshot. We sprang apart as if burned. A TA stood in the doorway, clipboard clutched to his chest. He froze, eyes flicking rapidly between us, standing too close and breathing too hard.
“Oh, sorry! Sorry,” he blurted. “I didn’t realize—I was just looking for Melanie.”
My stomach dropped.
“Yes?” I squeaked, trying to sound normal while my pulse thundered in my ears.
“The department office asked me to track you down,” he said, face pink. “There’s an issue with your graduation audit. They said it’s time-sensitive… something about a missing clearance signature? They need you to come by before they close.”
Kian had already stepped back, composure snapping into place like armor. He cleared his throat, smoothing his jacket, though his eyes were still dark, still on me.
“T-thank you,” I stammered. “I’ll head there now.”
“Sorry again,” the TA said, already retreating. His footsteps echoed hurriedly down the hall.
I stared at the floor, suddenly acutely aware of how fast my pulse was still racing, how warm my lips felt, how badly I wanted five more seconds. When I looked up, Kian was watching me carefully, pulling himself back together. His expression softened.
His mouth quirked, almost sheepish. “Well, that won’t help the rumors.”
I blinked at him, surprised by the comment, then couldn’t help it. I broke into a laugh, something tight in my chest loosening. His eyes warmed as he watched me, a genuine smile breaking through.
I stepped back, putting necessary distance between us before we got even more carried away.
“We’ll figure it out,” I said, smiling at him. “Together. If you want that.”
He looked at me then, and in his eyes, I saw all the pain of nineteen losses, the yearning for something he’d thought lost forever, the old wounds still healing. Underneath it all was fragile, cautious hope.
“I do,” he said earnestly. “Gods help me, I do.”
“Then take me for coffee sometime,” I said, lifting my bag back onto my shoulder, trying to sound casual even though my hands were still shaking. I smiled at him. “And tell me who you are now. Not just who you were.”
He nodded once, and it felt like the first step toward something real and entirely ours. “I’d like that,” he said.
And just before I turned to leave, he caught my hand. He pressed his lips to my knuckles, so reverently that it made me blush, then pulled me just close enough to whisper in my ear.
“Melanie,” he murmured, and his breath ghosted across the shell of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
“If you’re ever in danger—real, immediate danger—don’t waste time calling or texting.
Find solid ground. Sit or kneel, doesn’t matter, and press your palms to the ground. Then speak my divine name aloud.”
I blinked up at him, caught off guard, still dizzy from being kissed. “Your divine name?”
He brushed a strand of hair from my cheek with infinite care.
“Hades. Say it clearly, and I’ll come to you.
” His eyes held mine, making a promise I felt settle into my bones.
“No matter where you are. No matter what stands between us. No matter what I’m doing.
I’ll feel it the moment you call, and I’ll come. ”
“Always?” The word came out smaller than I meant.
“Always,” he murmured, his eyes alight with conviction.
I nodded, heart thudding like a drum, and squeezed his hand once before turning to leave. I felt the weight of his gaze on me until I disappeared through the doorway and into the hall beyond.