“I know.” The corner of his mouth curled upward. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

“It’s not funny.”

“Oh, I know it’s not.” His fingers drifted through her hair, casually and gently. “I could barely stand to watch.”

She could barely stand to remember it. “How did you manage to kill her? To get rid of the tattoo?”

“It’s a long story,” he said. “I’d rather you fill in the details of yours.”

“You first.”

“Not a chance. I want to hear how you hid the fact that you’ve got a star inside you.”

He looked down at her chest then, as if he’d glimpse it shimmering beneath her skin. But when his eyebrows flicked upward, Bryce followed his line of sight.

“Well,” she said with a sigh, “that’s new.” Indeed, just visible down the V-neck of her T-shirt, a white splotch—an eight-pointed star—now scarred the place between her breasts.

Hunt chuckled. “I like it.”

Some small part of her did, too. But she said, “You know it’s just the Starborn light—not true power.”

“Yeah, except now you’ve got that, too.” He pinched her side. “A good amount from what I can sense. And the fucking Horn—” He ran his hand down her spine for emphasis.

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

But his face grew grave. “You’re going to have to learn to control it.”

“We save the city, and you’re already telling me I need to get back to work?”

He chuckled. “Old habits, Bryce.”

Their eyes met again, and she glanced at his mouth, so close to hers, so perfectly formed. At his eyes, now staring so intently into her own.

It had all happened for a reason. She believed that. For this—for him.

And though the path she’d been thrust onto was royally fucked, and had led her through the lightless halls of grief and despair … Here, here before her, was light. True light. What she’d raced toward during the Ascent.

And she wanted to be kissed by that light. Now.

Wanted to kiss him back, and tell Syrinx to go wait in his crate for a while.

Hunt’s dark eyes turned near-feral. As if he could read those thoughts on her face, in her scent. “We have some unfinished business, Quinlan,” he said, voice roughening. He threw Syrinx a Look, and the chimera leapt from the bed and trotted out into the hall, lion’s tail waggling as if to say, It’s about time.

When Bryce looked back at Hunt, she found his focus on her lips. And became hyperaware of the fact that she was sitting across his lap. On her bed. From the hardness starting to poke into her backside, she knew he’d realized it, too.

Still they said nothing as they stared at each other.