Gavriel's arms tightened around her, and he didn't respond.
Her back was against his chest. Their heartbeats had synced without either of them deciding to let that happen, two rhythms falling into step like they'd been rehearsing in secret for months and finally dropped the pretense.
His insides were a war zone. She could feel every detonation, guilt and want and terror and relief crashing into each other with no referee, and she understood all of it because the same war was raging in her chest and the casualties were identical.
Her hands found his beneath the water and held them against her. He let her, and for a full minute, neither of them spoke or moved or tried to make sense of anything.
They just stayed.
Then a calm washed into her that was absolutely, categorically, without question, his.
