“Tell me why….” she whispered, her face creased in a deep pain, as if feeling herself starting to slip into a place she had been both fearing and wanting to go.

“Because you’re my friend,” I said, voice trembling. “Because you need this,” I added.

Relief showed in the depths of her eyes, black in the dim light. “Not enough. I want to show you so badly that it aches,” she said, her voice a gray ribbon. “But I won’t do this if you can’t admit it’s for you as much as me. If you can’t, then it’s not worth having.”

I stared in a near panic for what she was asking me to come to grips with. I didn’t even know what to call the emotions that were making my eyes warm with unshed tears and my body long for something I didn’t understand.

Seeing my frightened silence, she turned away. Her long fingers gripped the handle to open the door, and I stiffened, seeing everything dissolve to become an embarrassing incident that would forever widen the chasm between us. Panicked, I said, “Because I want to trust you. Because I do trust you. Because I want this.”

Her hand fell from the door. As my pulse thundered, I saw her fingers tremble, knowing she heard the truth in my voice even as I accepted it. She felt it. She smelled it in the air with her incredible senses and her even more incredible brain that could decipher it. “Why are you doing this to me?” she said to the door. “Why now?”

She turned, her haunted eyes shocking me. Breath shallow, I stepped closer, reaching out but hesitating. “I don’t know what to do,” I said. “I hate feeling stupid. Please do something.”

She didn’t move. A tear had slipped from her, and I reached to wipe it away. Ivy jerked, catching me about the wrist. Her fingers were stark next to the black gold of Kisten’s bracelet, their long whiteness covering my demon mark. I stifled my instinctive jerk, going pliant when she pulled me close, leading my hand to the small of her back.

“This isn’t right,” she whispered, our bodies not touching but for her hair mingling with mine and my arm around her waist and her grip on my wrist.

“So make it work,” I said, and the brown ring about her eye shrank.

She took the air deep into her, closing her eyes and scenting the possibilities of what I would and wouldn’t do. Her eyes were black when they opened, the last sliver of brown gone. “You’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid I won’t be able to forget. I’m afraid it will change me.”

Ivy’s lips parted. “It will,” she breathed, inches away.

I shivered and closed my eyes. “Then help me not be afraid until I understand.”