The city felt quieter that night, as if the storm that had raged in Zariah's chest had spilled out onto the street and left them hollow. She walked beside Dorian, the silence between them no longer heavy with suspicion but with something far more dangerous: need.
They said nothing as they entered his apartment. A place she'd never seen before, though she'd imagined it more times than she could admit. The window framed the skyline and the world below felt miles away.
He closed the door and for a moment, neither moved.
Then he crossed the space between them, his hand finding hers, fingers tentative at first, as if asking permission. When she didn't pull back, he lifted her knuckles to his lips, the kiss soft, reverent.
"I shouldn't want this" he murmured. "But I do."
Zariah's breath hitched. "Then stop pretending you don't."
There was no hesitation after that.
His mouth found hers again, more urgent this time, years of restrained longing burning through every touch. His hand framed her face., then slid into her hair, as if anchoring himself to this moment. She melted into him, arms around his neck, heart racing against his chest.
They stumbled towards the bedroom, shedding layers not just of clothing but of all the wall they'd build between them. The lies, the doubts, the fear, they fell away with every kiss, every whispered promise against her skin.
He laid her down as if she were something breakable and scared at once. His mouth explored her neck, her collarbone, the curve of her shoulder and when he looked down at her , there was no more mask, no more mystery, just a man lost and found in the same heartbeat.
"Tell me to stop," he breathed.
She shook her head. "Don't you dare."
Their bodies found a rhythm, slow at first, then desperate. Every sigh, every gasp, every tangled touch spoke the words neither of them had said out loud: I see you. I want you. I'm terrified of losing you.
The city kept its secret behind glass and steel but in that room, in that night, they shared theirs with each other.
When it was over, they lay tangled together, the quiet between them now soft, almost tender.
But even as sleep began to pull at her, Zariah felt it.
A shadow between them.
Not Dorian.
Not herself.
But the truth waiting at the door, patient and deadly.