“You didn’t flinch.”
Cassian’s voice was low, almost quiet enough to miss. We were close—closer than we should’ve been. My fingers had just let go of his wrist, still tingling from the heat pulsing off his skin. From my mark.
“I didn’t mean to grab you,” I said.
“I didn’t mean to let you.”
Neither of us moved.
The fire between us crackled like it was waiting for something to snap.
I stepped back first.
He didn’t follow.
I sat, cross-legged, the dirt cold under my legs. The glow at my shoulder slowly faded. Not gone—never gone—but buried, like a pulse just beneath skin.
Cassian finally sat too. A little further than usual.
He didn’t speak.
And I didn’t push.
But I felt it.
Something had shifted. A thread pulled taut between us. Not romantic. Not quite. Something *older.* Someth
