Gabriel pulled away after sustaining the mouth-to-mouth contact. He used the back of his hand to wipe his lips, staring at that same hand like it didn't belong to him.
How? Minutes ago all he wanted to do was figure out what this Guide's deal was and be done with it. Now here he was, kneeling in the middle of Vatican City… kissing him?
No—that wasn't a kiss. He was only trying to resuscitate the idiot.
Meanwhile, Ambrose still had his eyes wide open, his gaze first pinned on the bright afternoon sky. Then it flitted to Gabriel's face. And then to Valentine—standing behind him and gawking like his favourite show was on.
'No freaking way,' his mind went down an avalanche of thoughts. 'That… that didn't just happen right? Did he kiss me?'
[Normal people would call it—]
'I know what I felt!' he snapped. 'It was a kiss. That was more than lips touching. I could've sworn I felt his tongue sliding in at one point.'
He was petrified, not knowing what to say or do.
