“So, what you’re saying is, I’m not clingy. I’m so hyper-attuned to you, I can locate you in my subconscious from miles away, unknowingly sense you’re in danger, and actually do something about it?” she asked.

“That’s my take,” he answered.

Slowly, she grinned and whispered, “Right on.”

Abel relaxed.

Then he asked, “You gonna let me put my arms around you and show you how sorry I am that I pulled an asshole stunt, or you wanna throw more shit at me?”

“Don’t piss me off, Abel, or I’ll blast you with my blue light,” she shot back, and it wasn’t entirely a joke.

He smiled at her and said quietly, “Baby, wanna hold you.”

“Then do it,” she returned.

He moved instantly and took her in his arms.

She didn’t wrap hers around him. She lifted her hands and laid them on his chest. He sensed it was to keep distance but, being Delilah, doing it still gave him what he needed.

“Still pissed at you,” she told his throat.

“I’d still be pissed at me too,” he told the hair on the top of her head.

She took in a breath that was rough, exposing she was still feeling emotion and doing it deep.

“Hate a lot of what went down this morning. Figure Lucien and Callum are right now dealing with shit of their own making too,” he said, still speaking to her hair because she wasn’t giving him her face and he wasn’t going to force her to. “But we got shit happening within these walls so there’s shit to be done.”

“Right,” she mumbled. “Go.”

“Before I go, don’t need you to assure me we’re good,” he told her. “Just need you to tell me we’re inching that way.”

At that, she tipped her head back and caught his eyes.

“Abel.” She slid a hand up to curl it around the side of his neck. “You did something you had to do. You fucked up doing it. You apologized. A lot has gone down, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t still getting to know one another. Not to mention all this supernatural shit we don’t have a lock on. I know you didn’t have any clue your fuck-up would be that huge. It was. It’s over. You promised it won’t happen again.” She took in breath and finished, “What I’m saying is, let it go. I am. Which means we’re not inching toward good. We’re there.”

Simple as that. She blasts it out, says it like it is, he takes his licks, then she’s done. Over it. Moving on.

Jesus, he loved her.

She wasn’t a dream come true.

She was a fucking fantasy come to life.

“Abel?” she called, and when she did, he realized he’d been staring at her for longer than he thought.