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His hand trembled, the satchel of ashflower shaking in his grip. “We shouldn’t have gone this long between applications. I don’t exactly understand how this works. Clearly there’s an inconsistency. Your location or emotions may impact the Brand. You’ll need to let me know if you’re about to lose control.”

Had I nearly lost control?The possibility unsettled me. “Let’s do this then,” I said, bracing for his touch.

“Uh, your shirt,” he said.

Oh. Right.

Zayne kneeled before me. His horns, long and sharp, were at eye level. Wisps of black hair swayed across his face, and when I inhaled, his scent flooded me.

Cedar and amber. I could focus on that. Lifting my hand to my heart, I drew the tank downward, exposing the core of my Brand.

He closed the distance between us, pressing red petals against my Brand. As he made contact, I forced myself to still, clamping down my urge to shudder.

He repeated the command as he had before, “Shade’s Brand, leave and let Ayla be.”A new scent joined the others, reminding me of a rainy funeral.

With the Brand engorged, Zayne had to apply the ashflower several times. He had to work for it, and I absorbed his touch. The scent of dirt and rain, of petrichor, bloomed from his effort. By the time he was finished, sweat beaded on his brow.

The entire time, I soaked him in, unable to resist. His refrain, the repetition of his sounds, the way he said my name… His command consumed me. I entered a haze, trembling beneath his touch.

Zayne had power over me.

If he were anyone else, I would have run in fear. Ihadrun in fear. Even now, while I shuddered, I didn’t turn away. Would he turn on me, like Carson or Mariana? Could I trust him? Trust was awful; it was dangerous.

Finally, he nodded, pleased with the freckle-sized mark. He wiped the sweat from his brow. Slowly, stiffly, I released my undershirt, hiding the diminished Brand. I blinked, and a tear fell.

The Brand was silent, the calling no longer haunting. I felt spacious. There was release and relief.

My vision darkened. I swayed, proud shoulders falling forward. Zayne caught me. He held my shoulders, helping me steady, forearms to my knees.

His hair tickled my cheek. We were only a palm’s width apart. My heart raced. I blinked, taking him in, the sharp line of his jaw, his lips… He didn’t back away. His gaze darted across my face.

I couldn’t say who moved first. Maybe we moved together. Closing the space between us, our lips met.

Thrill consumed me. I pulled him closer.

Everythingquickened within me as the kiss expanded, lips parting. From lips to collarbone, navel and thigh, my body burned with need.

My hands dug into his hair. His fingertips graced my neck. Desperate tongues thrust, hungry.

So fast. So sudden. This was urgent andnow.

My fingers traced up his horn, the smooth texture making me shiver. I ran my finger over the point. There was a sting. I felt the ebb of blood; I must have pricked myself.

What am I doing?I tried to push the question away, to ignore the sting of my bleeding finger. Still, I paused.

His lips froze, our kiss left wanting and broken. He backed away, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry. I…”

He raced to the door, moving like he couldn’t get away fast enough. His absence left a vacuum, confusing and empty. One in which my emptiness, my fears, festered. Was he using me?

I grabbed a fresh tunic, hiding my skin as fast as I could. “Wait,” I croaked.

He stopped, his hand on the door. “What?” He didn’t turn to face me.

“I know…” With my heart racing and face flushed, it was hard to find my words. I decided to speak directly. “I know it’s really inconvenient that…”We just kissed?I looked at the bed. “It’s inconvenient that we’ll need to share such a small space.”

I needed to know if I could trust him. Only he was an exiled prince raised by the Starlit King, trained in the art of shadows and dissembling. I licked the blood from my pricked finger, tasting metal and salt.

Either I could follow his lead and pretend that kiss didn’t happen, or I could say what I meant.