Corren’s POV
The kiss in the living room did not stay there.
Sybil’s hand rested lightly against my chest when we separated, fingers gathering a small fold of my shirt. She did not step away. The question in her eyes was quiet and familiar, the same one that had passed between us across years of complicated distance and occasional return. I answered it by taking her hand and leading her down the short hallway toward the bedroom she kept ready.
The room was dim, lit only by the low lamp near the far wall. She closed the door behind us with a soft click. For a moment we only stood looking at each other. There was none of the sharp, charged obedience I demanded elsewhere. What lived between us now was older—worn smooth by time, less urgent, but still capable of heat.
I reached for her fir
