Nathaniel stilled at her words.
The candlelight played across the angles of his face, highlighting the tension that crept into his jaw. But he didn't move to leave—not yet.
"Don't speak like that," he said at last, his voice low, almost coaxing.
Her eyes fluttered shut. "Why not? It's true."
"I've never lost what I've claimed."
Evelyn's breath caught in her throat as he sat on the edge of the bed, his weight dipping the mattress. His hand brushed hers—tentative at first, then more sure as his fingers laced through her cold ones.
"You don't have to be alone in this," he murmured. "Even if you hate me."
"I don't hate you," she said quietly. "I hate what you make me feel."
A faint smile touched his lips, something wolfish and unreadable. "That's something."
He leaned in again, his hand now cradling her cheek, thumb grazing the soft line beneath her eye. "You frighten me, Evelyn," he admitted, as if confessing a sin. "You make me want… things I've never dared to want."
