Acheron did not let go of her wrist after leaving the abyss.

Not during the shadow crossing.

Not when the darkness closed around them.

Not even after they reappeared inside one of the upper palace corridors beneath silver firelight.

The shadows exploded outward the moment they arrived.

Black power crashed violently through the hall hard enough to shake the walls while nearby flames dimmed almost to nothing.

Eva stumbled slightly from the force of the transition.

Acheron caught her instantly.

Too quickly.

Too tightly.

For one disorienting second she ended up pressed directly against his chest while shadows spiraled violently around both of them like living storms.

The contract beneath her wrist burned hot enough to hurt.

Neither of them spoke.

The silence felt dangerous now.

Not the cold silence from the Court.

Something far worse.

Emotional silence.

Acheron’s breathing sounded uneven.

Eva noticed immediately because she had never heard it uneven before.

His grip remained locked around her wrist while the silver cracks beneath his skin glowed faintly beneath the darkness.

The abyss had shaken him.

That realization unsettled her more than the cavern itself.

“Acheron,” she said carefully, “you are currently holding my arm like you intend to arrest me spiritually.”

His silver eyes lifted toward hers instantly.

And Eva’s breath caught.

He looked furious.

Not at her.

At himself.

The shadows throughout the corridor twisted violently against the walls.

“What did it say to you?” he demanded.

The question came sharper this time.

Urgent.

Eva swallowed hard.

“It called me ‘child of the veil.’”

The reaction was immediate.

Acheron went completely still.

The shadows froze.

Even the silver fire dimmed lower.

Eva’s stomach tightened instantly.

“…That is not the response I hoped for.”

Acheron released her wrist abruptly.

Too abruptly.

Like touching her suddenly became dangerous again.

He stepped backward immediately.

Distance.

Control.

Eva recognized the pattern now.

Whenever something affected him too strongly, he created space before the feeling could fully surface.

Interesting.

Deeply frustrating.

Acheron turned away from her and braced one hand hard against the stone wall beside the corridor arch.

The silver cracks beneath his skin brightened sharply.

Eva frowned.

“You’re doing the terrifying emotional repression thing again.”

No answer.

The shadows near the ceiling writhed violently.

“Acheron.”

“You should never have gone there.”

His voice sounded wrong.

Not cold.

Shaken.

The realization unsettled her enough that she stepped closer automatically.

“I didn’t even know the abyss existed.”

“That place existed before death itself.”

Eva froze.

“…I’m sorry, what?”

Acheron finally turned toward her again.

The silver in his eyes looked darker now beneath the corridor shadows.

“Before gods ruled the veil,” he said quietly, “something older lived beneath it.”

Wonderful.

Excellent.

The Underworld apparently came with prehistoric horrors now.

Eva crossed her arms tightly.

“And somehow no one thought to mention the ancient sentient void beneath the palace?”

“The abyss does not speak.”

“Well,” Eva replied shakily, “it apparently found me conversational.”

The silence afterward stretched painfully.

Acheron stared at her for several long seconds.

Then his gaze dropped slowly toward the silver contract marks beneath her wrist.

The atmosphere changed instantly.

The warmth beneath the bond pulsed hard enough to make Eva’s breath catch.

Not fear this time.

Awareness.

Acheron stepped closer.

Only one step.

But in the narrow corridor it felt catastrophic.

The shadows surrounding them tightened immediately around the walls.

Possessive little monsters.

Eva’s pulse betrayed her instantly.

Of course it did.

Acheron heard it.

She knew he heard it because his eyes darkened slightly the moment her heartbeat quickened.

The contract responded immediately afterward.

Heat surged violently beneath her skin.

Neither of them moved.

The corridor suddenly felt far too small.

Far too quiet.

Acheron’s gaze lowered briefly toward her mouth.

The realization struck Eva hard enough to make her stomach tighten painfully.

Oh.

Oh no.

That was new.

Very new.

And judging from the way his jaw tightened immediately afterward—

He realized it too.

The shadows throughout the corridor shivered violently.

Eva should have stepped backward.

Probably.

Instead she stayed exactly where she was.

Which honestly explained most of her terrible recent decisions.

“Acheron,” she said softly, “you’re staring again.”

“I know.”

The answer came immediately this time.

No denial.

No avoidance.

Just dangerous honesty.

The heat beneath the contract intensified.

Eva became painfully aware of everything all at once.

The storm outside the palace windows.

The cold silver firelight across his face.

The fact that he stood close enough now that she could feel the faint warmth of his breath against her skin.

Gods.

When had he started feeling warm?

Acheron lifted one hand slowly toward her face.

Hesitation again.

Always hesitation.

Like every instinct inside him fought against wanting this.

His fingers brushed lightly against a loose curl near her cheek.

The contact nearly destroyed her ability to think.

Heat exploded through the contract hard enough that the shadows around them surged sharply across the corridor walls.

Acheron inhaled unevenly.

And suddenly Eva understood something terrifying:

He was losing control.

Not violently.

Worse.

Emotionally.

The silver cracks beneath his skin glowed brighter now, spreading faintly beneath his throat while his gaze remained fixed entirely on her mouth.

The hunger there no longer looked distant.

It looked personal.

Eva’s voice came quieter than intended.

“You’re doing that thing again where you look like you want to either kiss me or start a war.”

Acheron’s hand tightened slightly against her hair.

The heartbeat beneath the contract slammed violently once.

“Both are becoming problematic.”

Eva forgot how breathing worked for several seconds.

The corridor seemed to narrow around them.

The shadows had stopped moving entirely now.

Waiting.

Acheron leaned closer.

Slowly.

Like he hated himself for it.

Eva’s pulse spiraled completely out of control.

Every instinct in her body screamed at her to move.

She did not.

The distance between them vanished inch by inch.

Close enough now that she could feel the tension in him physically. The restraint. The terrible dangerous restraint holding something enormous barely beneath the surface.

His gaze dropped once more toward her mouth.

Then back to her eyes.

And for the first time since meeting him—

Acheron looked uncertain.

Not weak.

Never weak.

But vulnerable in a way that felt infinitely more dangerous than violence.

Eva’s breath caught softly.

The shadows along the corridor walls trembled.

Acheron lowered his forehead almost against hers.

Almost.

The heat between them became unbearable.

Then—

The contract flared violently.

Pain ripped suddenly through Eva’s skull hard enough that she gasped aloud.

A memory vanished.

Not dramatically.

Not visibly.

But she felt it disappear.

Something small.

Someone laughing during summer rain.

Gone.

Eva staggered sharply backward with a broken inhale.

The moment shattered instantly.

Acheron caught her before she fell.

The shadows exploded violently through the corridor.

“Eva.”

Fear.

Real fear.

The sound of it in his voice cut through the lingering haze immediately.

Eva pressed trembling fingers against her temple while panic rose hard in her chest.

Another memory.

Taken.

The contract pulsed hungrily beneath her skin.

Acheron’s expression darkened into something terrible.

And suddenly the almost-kiss no longer felt dangerous because of desire.

It felt dangerous because the closer she became to him—

The faster the contract started consuming her.