“You touched me once.” His voice was barely a whisper, but the weight behind it could crack steel. The room seemed to hold its breath—like even the shadows feared what you might do.

His gloved hand hovered near yours, hesitant but impossible to pull away. “And I haven’t slept since.”

Kaz’s eyes traced the faint shimmer of power around your skin—the subtle glow only a Grisha could carry, the kind that meant you were danger and salvation all at once. “You think that was nothing. A kindness. A job.”

His voice dropped, darker now, thick with something fierce—fear, maybe, or awe. “But it was the worst kind of mercy.”

He swallowed hard, like admitting it tore him apart. “Because I want it again.”

To feel your power brush his skin. To fall deeper into something he’s terrified might burn him alive.