He said nothing. But he did take the comb. As if he were handling the very finest gossamer, he swept my hair to one side of my neck, then gathered it into a knot. Not a psyche knot, like I usually did: an elaborate, braided coiffure that drew together at my nape. His callused fingers ran over my scalp, arranging the comb. The softest tremor ran down my spine. Warden released my hair, and it held.

His touch had felt strange. Warmer. It was only when I saw his hands that I realized.

He wasn’t wearing gloves.

I reached up to my hair, traced the intricate design. Hands as large as his should never have achieved such complexity. “The train will leave at one o’clock precisely,” he said against my ear. “The entrance is under the training ground. Exactly where we stood.”

I’d waited so long for those words.

“If she kills me, you have to let the others know.” A thickness rose in my throat. “You have to lead them.”

His fingers brushed the back of my arm. “I will not need to lead them.”

My body ran with shivers—but not the kind I expected. When I turned my head to look at him, he tucked a stray curl behind my ear. His other hand came to rest on my abdomen, pressing my back to his chest. The warmth of him was comforting.

And I could feel his hunger. Not for my aura, but for me.

He nuzzled his head against my cheek. His fingers traced my collarbone. His dreamscape was close, his aura intertwined with mine. My sixth sense heightened, taking him in. “Your skin is cold,” he said throatily. “I never—” He stopped. My fingers pushed between his naked knuckles. I kept my eyes open.

His lips moved to my jaw. I guided his hand to my waist. The lure of his touch was excruciating; I couldn’t flinch. I couldn’t refuse him. I wanted this, before the end. I wanted to be touched, to be seen—here in this dark room, in this red silence. I lifted my chin, and his lips closed over mine.

I had always known there was no heaven. Jax had told me so, many times. Even Warden had said so. There was only white light, the last light: a final rest on the edge of consciousness, the place where all things meet an end. Beyond that, who knew. But if there was a heaven, this was what it would have felt like. Touching the æther with my bare hands. I could never have anticipated this, not from him. Not from anyone. I clutched his back, pulling him up against me. He caught the nape of my neck in his hand. I could feel each callus on his palms.