The glyph was still glowing in my ribs.
And so was she.
Talraine stood at the shrine's edge, backlit by divine fire, her cloak discarded, her skin shimmering with glyph-light and guilt. She hadn't said anything since the accord.
She'd just… watched me.
Like she wanted to burn the memory of me into her bones before she did something cruel.
"You're too quiet," I said, voice low. "For a woman who once tied me to a mat and made me forget my name."
She didn't smile.
Didn't speak.
She just walked toward me.
Each step made the glyph in my chest throb hotter.
When she reached me, her fingers slipped behind my neck. Soft. Then tightened like a leash.
"I can't stay," she whispered. "But I can still leave you… marked."
I opened my mouth to ask what she meant.
She kissed me instead.
Hard.
Hot.
Possessive.
And then she turned me—pushed me against the shrine's central dais. Her hand slammed against the glyph etched in my ribs. The pulse between us ignited.
