Page 26 of Shadowkissed

I cross the room like I’m walking into a battlefield, every step careful. Controlled. I stop just a few feet away.

“I felt something,” I say. “The other night. With you And today, it felt like what happened to me was happening to you.”

He studies me, jaw tight but remains silent.

I nod slowly. “It’s not supposed to happen like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like...connection.”

He takes a step toward me, careful. Like he’s approaching a wounded animal. Which, to be fair, he kind of is.

“Are you ever going to tell me your name, or do I have to keep calling you by what all the other dipshits call you on stage?”

I don’t answer. The questions catches me off guard and I know I’m ready to share that. Only Thorne has called me by my real name for a very long time. Him and Seraphiel, but it’s always come with a price when someone says it. So, I press my lips into a thin line and say nothing.

Then just as suddenly. he walks to the counter, grabs a fresh mug, and fills it. Brings it to me. This time, he doesn’t touch my hand when he passes it over. And somehow,thatmakes the tension worse.

I take a sip.

Still hot.

Still too sweet.

Still exactly what I didn’t know I needed.

He watches me, still as stone, eyes sharp and unreadable. I canfeelthe weight of the question he isn’t asking hanging in the air between us. My fingers tighten around the mug, heat seeping into my palms. He deserves an answer—something real. And gods, I hate that I want to give it to him.

No one knows my name. Not the truth of it.

Not in years.

They’ve called me a hundred things—Nightshade, monster, curseborn, witch—but none of them wereme. Not really. And yet now… I want him to have it. Ineedhim to.

Even if it’s stupid. Even if it makes everything worse.

I set the mug down slowly and lift my eyes to meet his.

“My name,” I say quietly, “is Liora.”

He blinks. Just once.

Then something shifts in his face. Something warm. Something careful.

“Liora,” he says, like he’s testing the sound. Like he’s trying it on in his mouth. And somehow itfits.

A shiver crawls up my spine. Hearing it in his voice—it’s different. Not a weapon. Not a leash. Just a name.

Mine.

Given. Not taken.

And suddenly, I don’t feel quite so alone.

“I came back,” I say softly, “because I needed to see if it was just me.”

His gaze sharpens. “It’s not.”

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