Page 62 of Demon’s Snack
I understand the implication all at once.
And so does he.
Corin goes utterly still.
“No,” he says immediately.
I tilt my head slightly. “You do not even know what I was going to say.”
“I absolutely do.”
“Impressive confidence.”
“Isolde.”
His tone changes on my name, dropping into a warning that brushes directly against the bond.
“You believe physical intimacy may redirect the excess energy,” I say carefully.
“I believe that is an extraordinarily dangerous sentence.”
“You stabilized through touch.”
“That was not intimacy.”
“No,” I say softly. “It was not.”
Silence floods the room.
The ward-lamp overhead flickers faintly.
Corin drags one hand down his face and laughs under his breath again, though this time the sound carries real disbelief beneath it. “You are discussing this like a laboratory problem.”
“I discuss most things that way when nervous.”
His eyes lock onto mine instantly. “You’re nervous?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Why is that good?”
“Because I’m over here trying very hard not to climb you like a tree while my soul catches fire.”
The words hit me so hard I forget how to breathe properly.
Corin sees that immediately and swears softly under his breath.
“Damn it,” he mutters. “I should not have said that.”
“Probably not.”
“You should leave.”
“That recommendation is beginning to lose authority through repetition.”
His gaze drops briefly to my mouth before jerking away again. The movement is quick, but the bond catches it and magnifies the awareness until warmth rolls low through my body with startling intensity.
