For a moment I didn’t care who watched. My hands trembled as I held her, afraid she might vanish if I blinked. Her hair smelled faintly of soap and roses, but beneath it lingered a smell that was mine—our blood, our bond. Eve pressed forward, purring,
“Ours.”
The jagged places inside me, all the years of loss, pulled tight until it almost hurt to breathe. I wanted to tell her everything right there, to whisper that I was more than a stranger in a mask. But fear clamped my throat shut. Instead, I held her tighter, praying my silence didn’t feel like rejection.
Her warmth seeped into me, easing the pains in my chest. I pulled back just enough to study her face—her eyes clearer now, her cheeks holding more color than they had the day before. Relief hit me so hard my vision blurred.
“You
