It happened on a quiet night, when the palace slept and the world felt smaller.
We stood outside my door, neither of us moving.
"You're shaking," Cassian said softly.
"I'm afraid," I admitted.
"Of me?"
"No," I whispered. "Of wanting you."
He didn't close the distance right away. He waited—giving me time to stop him.
I didn't.
When his lips touched mine, it was gentle, questioning. The kind of kiss that asked permission rather than took it.
I answered him.
My hands fisted in his shirt as something inside me broke open—relief, longing, grief, all tangled together.
When we finally pulled apart, I was breathless.
"This can't happen again," I said
He rested his forehead against mine.
"Then tell me to stop," he said.
I couldn't.