She saved my ass today. 
No big deal. Just grabbed me by the collar and yanked me out of a chasm like I was some undercooked dumpling about to fall off a plate. Classic Tuesday.

Now we’re back at the monastery, pretending like our bones aren’t sore, our egos aren’t bruised, and—oh yeah—she didn’t kiss me in an alleyway mid-battle like we weren’t supposed to be mortal enemies. That’s the part that’s really screwing with me.

She’s stretched out on the floor across from me, ice pack pressed lazily to her shoulder, acting like she didn’t pin me to a wall, kiss the soul out of my body, and then vanish like a myth. Her hoodie’s a size too big—my hoodie, by the way—and hanging off one shoulder like some kind of casual warfare. I haven’t looked at anything else in twenty minutes. I can’t. I might combust.

Zane says something about battle strategies and probabilities, but it’s background noise. White noise. All I hear is her laugh. All I see is the smear of dried blood on her temple and the way she ran her thumb across my bottom lip after she kissed me like she owned me.

She tosses a smirk my way—smug, self-satisfied, annoyingly perfect. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

I blink. “For what?”

She shrugs. “Saving your life. Again. You almost fell into the literal earth.”

I lean back against the wall, arms crossed. “You say that like the ground doesn’t already do what I tell it to.”

Her eyes flick up. “I saved you from yourself, then. Even more impressive.”

I scoff. “Right. How will I ever repay you? Blood? My firstborn? Emotional vulnerability?”

She shoots me a look. A knowing one. The kind that says we both know you already gave me that—maybe not the kid, but the rest? Check, check, and check.

Jay suddenly appears like a poorly timed sitcom character, grinning like he senses drama. Which—of course he does. He’s a chaos goblin.

He jerks his chin toward me. “You’ve been staring at her since we got back.”

I don’t even blink. “I’m planning her demise. Don’t interrupt.”

Jay raises both eyebrows. “With heart eyes?”

I lob a piece of bread at his face. “Get out.”

But he's not wrong. Because the truth is… something did change out there. Not just the literal earth splitting under my boots. Not just her grabbing my shirt and slamming her mouth on mine like it was life or death.

No. Something deeper. Quieter. 
The way her breath hitched. The way mine did too.
 The way I haven’t been able to think straight since. I keep flashing back to it when I close my eyes. Her fingers in my hair. Her mouth parting like she couldn’t help it. My hand on her hip and that traitorous part of me that whispered: this could be something.

We’re back at the monastery, patching up wounds and throwing jabs like always. 
But something shifted. 
And I don’t think it was just the terrain. 
I think it was me.

And if she kisses me like that again?

I’m not walking away next time. 
I’m dragging her with me.