Page 190 of Alchemised

She handed the decanter back, not sure why they were passing something so unwieldy.

One sip and she could already feel the alcohol loosening her insides as he gestured towards the sofa. She curled up nervously on the far end.

He pushed the bottle towards her and when she tried to demur, he slid closer, his body closing in, sending her heart skyrocketing.

“You need to catch up.”

“I don’t have a regenerative liver,” she said in protest, looking dubiously at the amount inside and realising only then that the entire bottle was the “one drink” she’d agreed to.

The sofa was long enough that there was no reason for him to be so close, but there were barely inches between them. She took another sip and tried to return it, but he refused to take it, watching her like a curious cat before it springs.

“You’re going to regret this if I start crying.” She could already feel the alcohol in her face. “I get emotional when I’m drunk.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Is there a reason to cry?”

She looked down, rubbing her thumb over the etched pattern on the decanter. “There’s always a reason.”

Kaine shifted, rubbing his shoulders against the sofa like a cat marking its territory. His eyes fluttered shut as he moaned. “I never realised how much I enjoy leaning against things.”

“Should I give you and the sofa some privacy?” she asked, trying to scoot farther into the corner.

He stilled, eyes instantly opening, and reached towards her. “Don’t go.”

Heat rose all the way to the roots of her hair. She looked away, drinking more.

“I know you feel a lot better, but you need to be careful for the next few days,” she said between sips. “I think I did everything right so the scar tissue won’t tear, but once the Abeyance is over, things might change. If it feels off, at all, you can call me. I can keep coming to make sure.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Is there anyone you don’t feel responsible for?”

She looked away, trying to stifle Luc’s voice in her head calling her choices easy. “It’s my job,” she said quietly.

“Thank you, Marino.”

She swallowed, lifting her gaze. “Still not Helena?”

He exhaled, avoiding her eyes.

“Helena.” He said it slowly, drawing it out, as if he was testing the way it sounded.

She smiled at him. “See? Not so hard.”

He stared at her without smiling back, and she tried not to be distracted but he was so close, and still without a shirt on. Her eyes kept dropping involuntarily. She was trying not to look, but ordinarily when she saw people without their clothes on, it was because they were dying.

He was—very alive.

Her breath grew short. She tore her eyes away, not wanting to be accused of leering again, but he didn’t seem to have noticed this time. He was still studying her.

She couldn’t tell how intoxicated he was, but she was beginning to feel very drunk. Her head was growing heavy, and she had an overwhelming desire to laugh and cry simultaneously.

“You should put a shirt on,” she said, her voice jumping. “You must be cold.”

Faster than she could blink, her hand was in his, and he pressed her fingers against his chest.

“Do I feel cold?”

She shook her head, speechless, his skin warm against her palm. He didn’t flinch when she touched him now, instead leaning into it.

“You can use your resonance, if you don’t believe me.”