“Yeah.” But even that didn’t sound long enough.
“Ox?”
“Yeah?”
His eyes searched mine. Then, “Can I kiss you?”
It was said so shyly, so hesitantly, that I ached with it. “You want to?” I asked quietly.
He nodded once, a little jerk of his head.
“I guess that’s all right,” I said.
“I’m not your first.”
“No.”
“And you’re not mine.”
“No,” I said, jaw tense.
“But you’re the only one that matters. So, it’s like it’s the first. For the both of us.”
I kissed him then. I couldn’t not after that.
He gave a grunt of surprise when our lips touched, a little exhalation of air that was almost like a sigh. It was chaste, barely there. His lips were slightly parted and his eyes were open and on me, and I thought maybe they were endless. He brushed his nose against mine and tightened his fingers around my own. I reached up and cupped his cheek, fingers over his ear and holding him in place.
He flared within me, bursting and warm.
It was bittersweet, strong and heady.
I pulled away first.
He shuddered and pressed his forehead to mine.
He said, “I will come back for you.”
I believed he would try.
I FOUGHT it. For as long as I could.
But everything caught up to me. Thomas. My mother. Joe becoming the Alpha. The funerals. The fire. Joe’s decision.
Everything.
I tried to stay awake.
I screamed at myself that he’d be gone the moment my eyes closed.
He whispered, “Sleep, Ox.”
I whispered back, “But you’ll be gone.”
The smile he gave me curved sadly. “The sooner I leave, the sooner I can come home.”
My eyes drooped. I forced them open again.
“I’ll miss you,” I said. “Every day.”