Dakota's chest heavily tightened and her laughter came out soft and hollow. "That's the problem."
She let her head fall back against the headboard. Outside, Nightshade City burned endlessly beneath the dark sky—thousands of restless lights below, while the penthouse stayed wrapped in stillness.
"I don't know how to do this," she said suddenly.
"Do what?"
"This." Her hand lifted vaguely between them, then dropped to her lap. "Being connected to someone like this."
Kade stayed quiet long enough that she finally looked at him again. His expression had softened—just enough for her to notice now, always.
"You think I do?" he asked.
Dakota blinked.
"My parents were political partners before they were mates," he said evenly. "Everything around me was territory, power, expectation. Not this."
Not softness. Not honesty in the middle of the night. Not learning another person slowly through silence and vulnerability instead of dominance.
