“She looked at him. As if she wanted to determine his molecular weight.”

“They know him at molecular level. He lives in them like chains of matter that determine who they are.”

“Don’t ever apologize for being you, Andie.” She opened her eyes and turned to him. He was looking at her, and there was such conviction and sincerity in his expression that Andie felt like she was going to break under the weight of it.”

“She wants him to want to be looking at her.”

“She kissed him in the exact same way he wanted to fuck her. Hard, insistent, determined, as though burning him with her mouth. Branding her taste on his lips, marking him as her own.”

“He dropped to his knees, and the air between them rippled with Karou’s crippling magic and with memory. The day of her death, this is what she had seen, this: Akiva on his knees, sick with the weight of this same magic coursing off Thiago’s soldiers, and he had struggled to hold his head up and look at her—just like this—with horror and despair and love—and she had wanted more than she had ever wanted anything to go to him and hold him, whisper to him that she loved him and was going to save him, but she couldn’t, not then, and she couldn’t now, not because of shackles or pinions or the executioner’s ax but because he was the enemy. He had proven it beyond any horror she would ever have believed, beyond any betrayal she could ever have dreamed, and he could never be forgiven, not ever.But… then… her hands fell to her sides.”