Page 51 of Blood & Ash

“I left the coven,” Del said. “Rosalind didn’t cast me out. I walked away before she could decide whether to.”

“Where will you go?”

“The shop is mine.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

Del set down the glass. “I’ve lived above Nightshade & Nettle for eleven years. I’m not running because Rosalind prefers obedient relatives.”

“You shouldn’t be alone while Arrow has your name.”

“The wards are stronger now.”

“Sable tore through the nest wards in less than a minute.”

The reminder hit the place where fatigue and grief had already stripped her defenses. “Then perhaps no one should stand near me. Arrow has killed wolves, used the coven, and sent Sable into your home because I would not stop working. Everyone beside me becomes another way to punish me.”

Marcus crossed the clinic before she finished. He stopped close enough that Del had to tip her head back to see his face. “Arrow is responsible for the people he hurts.”

“You can’t keep saying that until I believe it.”

“No, but I can keep saying it while you learn to separate responsibility from usefulness.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your guilt is useful to him. It makes you easier to isolate, and isolated people are easier to control.” Marcus reached past her and opened the ledger. “You brought this here instead. That was a choice.”

Del looked at his hand beside hers. The punctures on his forearm had healed, leaving only faint pink marks. He had spilled his own blood in every test and never once used the sacrifice to claim authority over her.

“I don’t know where I belong now,” she said.

“You don’t have to know tonight.”

“You always have an answer.”

“No. I usually have a task.” Marcus closed the ledger again. “They’re not the same thing.”

The exhaustion in his voice made her look at him more carefully. He had been awake through most of the last three nights, moving between the clinic, the packhouse, and the nest. Dark stubble covered his jaw, and his eyes had gone red at the corners.

Del lifted her hand and touched his face. Marcus went motionless beneath her palm, although his gaze didn’t leave hers. The restraint in him felt less like distance now and more like a door he refused to open without permission.

“What task are you avoiding?” she asked.

“This one.”

He kissed her before she could decide whether to ask what he meant. His mouth met hers with controlled pressure, then eased when she didn’t immediately respond. Del caught the front of his shirt and pulled him back.

The second kiss held nothing careful. Marcus cupped the back of her neck while she rose onto her toes, and the weeks of shared work, fear, and interrupted touch finally found somewhere to go. His other hand settled at her waist, drawing her against the solid length of his body.

Del wanted more. The wanting frightened her because it arrived beside grief instead of waiting for grief to leave. She broke the kiss and pressed her forehead against his chest.

Marcus released her at once, though his hands remained close enough to catch her if she moved toward him again. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Del took a breath that wasn’t large enough. “I wanted that, and part of me believes wanting anything tonight makes me as selfish as Rosalind.”

“Rosalind traded other people’s freedom for safety. You kissed a man who wanted you to kiss him.” Marcus’s thumb brushed the corner of her mouth. “Those aren’t equivalent acts.”

Del laughed softly, though tears burned behind her eyes. “You make everything sound clinical.”