GRAYSON'S SMILE was bitter, tinged with a self-awareness that spoke of deep internal conflict.
"I'm not sure I know anymore."
The weight of the admission settled between them, a choice neither was prepared to make.
Mailah studied his face in the warm glow of the restaurant's amber lighting, searching for some glimpse of the truth beneath centuries of carefully constructed walls.
She clasped his hands, her voice a slow, steady balm. "You don't have to figure it out alone."
The simple offer seemed to catch him off guard.
His supernatural energy, which had been coiling around him like protective armor since Evelyn's departure, began to soften at the edges where her fingers made contact with his skin.
"You'd want that?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper. "Even after seeing what I'm capable of?"
