Page 107 of The First Scar
He came toward me the way wildfire catches—inevitable, eating the distance like the air between us had always been kindling. Each step measured—that familiar contained power rolling off him in waves. He held my gaze until he reached my bedroll.
My heart slammed against my breastbone. Traitor.
His attention dropped to the dagger by my feet, and one corner of his mouth tilted—not quite a smirk, but close enough to make my blood heat.
"Still sharpening steel at this hour? Careful—someone might think you're waiting for a reason to use them."
"Who says I don't intend to use them?" The words were supposed to come out harsh. They didn't. "You're back. That's reason enough."
A smile—slow, knowing—split his face. He tracked the waver in my voice, the way my tongue shot out to moisten my lips.
He'd heard it. The crack in my armor.
And he liked it.I searched his face for the angle. There was always an angle.
"Looking for something?" His voice lowered. "Or just looking?"
My eyes snapped back to his. "Don't flatter yourself."
"I don't have to." He stepped closer. "You do it for me."
I tore my eyes away, desperate for somewhere else to look. My eyes dropped to his Mark, searching for the tell-tale glow of that onyx-black light—but the shadows clung too thick to see anything.I snatched my blade back up off the floor.And manically started polishing again, desperate to look as unbothered as possible.
Then he knelt.
His fingers closed over mine, stilling them, and slipped the blade free. The other gripped my chin and forced me to look him in the eye. A smirk spread across his lips—making my insides flip.
"Perhaps you'd prefer a different kind of training tonight," he murmured. His voice sunk into a lethal invitation.
His thumb skimmed lightly over my lips—they parted for him without my permission.
Heat tore through me. My Marks ignited, the warmth pooling low in my belly.
His eyes slid to my mouth.
I leaned in. Just a fraction. Just enough to damn myself—
His face dissolved.
The sharp line of his jaw blurred. The cold intensity in his eyes melted into something familiar. Somethingmischievous.
The Crownforged cuirass shimmered and dissolved into drab rebel cloth.
Maxx.
He stood there grinning like he'd just won a bet with the gods themselves.
For one horrifying second, I couldn't move. Couldn't process.
Then everything hit at once.
Mortification struck me—stealing the air from my lungs. My cheeks burned so fiercely I thought they might catch fire.
And underneath it all, worse than the rest—
Grief.
Because for thirty seconds, I had believed it was real. I hadwantedit to be real.
