Atticus is staring into my eyes and I’m staring right back, caught in the quiet intensity of the moment and unable to find any words that could explain the way my chest feels too tight and too full at the same time, because everything I’m feeling seems to exist somewhere deeper than language. He lifts his hand slowly and moves my hair out of my face, his fingers brushing my cheek with deliberate care, and when he leans forward to kiss me it’s unhurried and gentle, like he’s giving me every chance to pull away if I want to.
I reach my arms up around his neck and deepen the kiss, leaning into him without hesitation, because there’s no fear there at all, only warmth and that steady pull of the bond humming under my skin. Every place his hands touch me sends sparks racing across my body as he
