He traced her profile with his eyes, imagining the feeling of the soft curves beneath his fingers. More empty words to soothe his wounds. If only he could believe such warm lies, but he knew what he was. What he always would be. But the sting was lessened at the thought of her still being there, thinking he was better than he was.
Perhaps he was missing the point, but he was tired, and she was beautiful.
“It is alright, Lady Summer. You need not…” he trailed off, swallowing.
“You don’t believe me.” She swallowed hard, trying to force down the lump in her throat. “Of course you don’t believe me. Of — of course I couldn’t possibly convince you, how old are you, how long you’ve been … ” She jumbled to a stop, gulping again.
She let go of his hands to rub at her face, forcing back involuntary tears. “Humans have a thing we do, sometimes. We say we have a family of blood, the family we were born to or raised in, and a family of the heart, the people we choose and share our lives with.”
He heard the change in her voice and fear surfaced from somewhere within him. He felt what she must feel, listening to him, wanting more, wanting…
“Please don’t,” he murmured, leaning over her, smoothing his fingers over that skin at last. “I will try, darling. I have heard you and I will do anything to try.” And then he pressed their lips together, chaste and reserved, sealing the connection between them at last.
She hadn’t realised how much she wanted that kiss until he gave it to her. There was no reason for it to seem so powerful, except that she’d missed him more than she admitted, and they’d always teased. Well, he had. She didn’t press for more, though, too weary, too worn with the struggles of the last hour.
Instead she put her hand back over his and squeezed. “We can try together.”