His burning eyes drop to my lips. I can feel his breath, cold like winter wind, against my skin.
He leans in slightly. I don't pull back. My lips part without my permission. His hand rises to cup my face, shadow-solid and gentle.
"Yorika," he murmurs, and my name sounds like a prayer.
I tilt my head up. He tilts his down. The space between us shrinks to nothing.
A book falls from somewhere high above, landing with a loud thunk between us.
We both look up. Päivi's voice drifts down from the upper levels: "Gravity mishap."
Another book falls. Then another.
A whole cascade of volumes tumbling from the upper shelves.
Päivi's voice drifts down irritably: "Romantic tension disrupts the cataloging system. My apologies for the interruption, but physics here responds to emotional intensity."
Nezavek steps back slightly, but doesn't leave. "Perhaps we should let the library settle before continuing this conversation."
I nod, still feeling the heat of the almost-kiss. "Probably wise."
We sit in the chairs, the charged moment between us shifting but not disappearing. I pick up the book again, trying to focus, but I'm acutely aware of his presence just feet away. The way he said my name. The careful gentleness of his touch. The hunger in his eyes that matched my own.
"I want answers."
"You want more than that." His hand hovers over my shoulder, shadow tendrils manifesting and dissolving like they can't decide whether to reach for me. "But you're not ready to admit it."
I turn to face him, anger overriding embarrassment. "You're right. I want more. I want to know who killed my sister. I want to know why you're really keeping me here. I want to know what this bond means and why you chose me."
"I didn't choose you. The bond did. The moment you stood on that platform, it recognized you as compatible. Everything after that was inevitable."
"Nothing is inevitable."
"No?" He reaches out, his fingers stopping just short of my face. "Then why does your body lean toward mine even as your mind screams to run? Why does your pulse quicken not from fear but from anticipation? Why do you dream of me inside you when you should dream of killing me?"
I slap his hand away. "Because you're manipulating me. The bond, the proximity, all of it."
"The bond doesn't create feelings. It only amplifies what's already there." He steps back, giving me space. "You wanted me before the bond. From the moment you saw me in thatwarehouse, part of you recognized something beyond enemy or target."
"You're delusional."
"I'm honest. It's you who lies, to yourself most of all."
Before I can respond, he turns to a floating shelf and pulls down another book. This one is smaller, bound in what looks like starlight.
"The Bone Collector's journals. Copies I made before he went mad. Read them. See the pattern of his kills. Then tell me if you still think I'm your sister's murderer."
He sets the book on the table and starts to leave.
"Wait."
He pauses.
"The dream. Could you... control it? Influence it?"
"No. That was all you, Yorika. Your desire, your imagination, your need." He looks back, and his eyes burn brighter. "Though I must admit, you've given me ideas."
He dissolves into shadow, leaving me alone with two books and the uncomfortable truth that my subconscious has betrayed me completely.
