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But there’s more. Something in her eyes. That shimmer. The way her pupils shift when the light hits. Too familiar. Too close to mine.

I don’t want to see it. Don’t want to believe it.

Because if I ask… and I’m wrong?

I lose them both.

And if I ask, and I’m right?

I don’t know if I’m ready for that truth.

So I say nothing.

Instead, when the rain slows and the lights flicker low, I hold out my hand. “Dance with me.”

Bella blinks. “What?”

“Dance.”

“There’s no music.”

“Don’t need it.”

She stares at me a long moment. Then, slowly, she slips her hand into mine.

Her skin is warm, damp from the towel, soft against my claws.

I pull her close, careful with my strength. We sway in the kitchen, silent except for dripping water and Natalie’s soft snores from the couch.

She rests her head against my chest. My heart hammers so loud I’m sure she hears it.

I whisper, “I thought I’d never have this.”

She murmurs back, voice thick, “Me either.”

The tension builds. A string pulled tighter, tighter—until it snaps.

Our mouths meet. This kiss isn’t hesitant. It’s hungry.

She presses against me, fingers curling into my scales, pulling me closer. My hands slide down her back, memorizing every curve.

We stumble to the couch, half-laughing, half-breathless.

The rain pounds harder, like the world is pushing us together.

And then there’s nothing but us. Her taste. Her heat. Her voice whispering my name like a secret.

Not reunion. Not just heat.

It’s forgiveness.

It’s home.

After, she lies curled against me, hair tangled across my chest. My arm wraps around her automatically, like she’s always belonged there.

Her breaths are steady, but I can feel the wetness against my skin. She’s crying.

I don’t say anything. I just hold her tighter.