"Eventually."
She huffed—half laugh, half resigned sigh—then brushed hair from his forehead. She kissed exactly where the new scar bisected his hairline, lingering an extra heartbeat, then eased lower, her lips grazing down to rest at the corner of his mouth. She whispered against him, breath warm, "Don't faint. I'm not done yet."
Her kiss deepened gradually, molten lava under ice. It neither demanded nor yielded, simply enveloped him, asking him to stay alive inside it. Time thickened; sounds blurred. He tasted lilac, tasted smoke, tasted promise.
When they separated, exhalations escaped the circle like arrows loosed—half teasing, half reverent.
Alina snapped out of the trance first. She pumped a fist in the air. "TENT. NOW."
