The kiss was warmer than the one in the corridor. That one had been a stolen thing at the end of a window. This was a room with a closed door, no clock, and no enforcer down the hall clearing his throat.
Rhain had always been expressive and had simply decided, for diplomatic reasons, to stop hiding it. His thumb slid along my jaw, not holding me still. Asking if I would stay. The patience in it landed and kept going.
I pushed forward to deepen the kiss.
Heat moved under my skin in a slow, treacherous spread. My fingers caught in the front of his shirt. His other hand came to my waist, then stopped there.
He pulled back the smallest amount. “Hello,” he said against my mouth.
“Hello.”
“I have been thinking about that for two days.”
“I noticed.”
“Good.” His thumb moved once along my jaw. “I would hate to discover I had suffered artistically and no one appreciated it.”
The laugh escaped before I could stop it.
His smile broke again. Brighter this time and uncontained.
Then he breathed in.
That was all.
One breath.
His nostrils flared as his gaze moved from my mouth to the left of my throat, to the bite mark there. Then his attention moved past me to the bed, the untouched lunch tray, the room itself, still carrying everything I hadn’t said.
Hurt moved behind his eyes, folded so neatly it almost looked like manners.
He took all of it in with brutal efficiency. He had been raised aroundsecrets.
The room caught up to him. And just like that, the joy in him made room for pain.
His hand stayed at my jaw. “Catalina,” he said. “Are you all right?”
“I am.”
He held my gaze, not pressing, but not believing me blindly either. “Do you need me to leave?”
“No.”
A single nod. Confirmation, not retreat.
For a moment, neither of us moved. He was close enough that I could still feel the heat of him where his hand touched my face. Close enough that the answer I had given him could’ve become another kiss, or an apology.
His hand left my jaw slowly. Then he stepped back just enough to become dangerous in a different way.
He took a folded slip from his coat and handed it to me. “From Yuki’s morning council log. She wanted you to have sight of it.”
The line was two names and a credential code.Whitman and Fitzpatrick, the State Department, Tuesday morning.
Rhain didn’t ask what it meant.
I wanted him closer.
He didn’t bring up the bed or the marks. For several seconds, he didn’t bring up anything at all.