“Don’t say it,” she warned, cheeks still pink.
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were.”
“I wasn’t.”
She stopped walking. “Fine. What were you going to say?”
He stepped in close—close enough that the air crackled between them again. “Just that... you looked like magic up there.”
Her shields stuttered.
“Dominic.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re the worst.”
He grinned. “And yet... here you are.”
She punched his shoulder. Light. Affectionate.
His hand caught hers before it dropped.
Fingers laced together.
Like it was nothing. Like it was everything.
Hours passed. Drinks flowed. Stories were traded. Laughter filled the corners of the bar like wardlight.
Lillith hadn’t meant to stay this long. She hadn’t meant to like it this much, either.
When Dominic pulled her toward the dance floor just once, just for a slow song that felt stitched from stardust and dreams, she didn’t resist.
His arms slid around her waist. Her hands rested against his chest. And the bond between them buzzed low and steady, not painful now. Just... present. Like a thread tying them to the same heartbeat.
“You’re not what I expected,” she murmured.
“Let me guess,” he said. “You thought I was just a pretty face with a roguish smile and a bad reputation?”
“Well, you are that.”
“But?”
She looked up at him. “You’ve got depth. Just hidden under six layers of arrogance and half a closet of leather jackets.”
His grin softened. “Guess you’re peeling me back.”
“Don’t get cocky.”
“Too late.”
The music ended. People clapped. But Lillith didn’t move right away. Neither did he.
Eventually, she let out a breath and stepped back. “We should go. It’s late.”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice rough. “Let’s get you home, witchling.” And when he reached for her hand again, she didn’t stop him. Because for tonight, just tonight... it felt good to be tethered. To be known. To be wanted. Without fear. Even if tomorrow meant more questions and if forever still scared her.
