The spark didn't just stay in my hand; it traveled up my arm, settling deep in my chest. For a long, breathless minute, the living room felt smaller, the sounds of the estate outside fading into a dull hum. Asher didn't pull away either. His thumb brushed almost imperceptibly against my skin, a rough, calloused caress that felt more intimate than any words we had exchanged since my return.
Leo was busy making "choo-choo" noises, oblivious to the silent earthquake happening between his parents. To him, we were just two people playing. To me, it felt like the first time the air hadn't been filled with the scent of gunpowder and old lies.
Eventually, Asher cleared his throat, the sound sharp in the quiet room. He withdrew his hand, though the ghost of his warmth remained. He stood up, his movements regaining that rigid, predatory grace that defined him.
