Anger became confusion became instinct became need—she gripped his face and pulled him down to bring his lips to hers. Castor went still as stone, his lips parting. He didn’t pull away. Neither did she. Her fingers slid into his thick hair, curling. “Lore—” She wanted him to keep saying her name that way, like it was the only word he knew. She was clumsy and raw and wild, but so was he. His hands covered her, the same hands that had helped her up from the ground countless times. The same hands that had lifted her up to reach higher as she climbed. The same hands she’d held as he lay dying.
