Logan was behind her, wrapping his arms carefully around her recovering body, holding her gaze in the mirror for a long, telling stretch of time. The emotion she’d seen hadn’t been her imagination. He pressed a kiss into her hair, tightening his arms.
Lips brushing her ear, he whispered, “What if I change my mind? What if I take you home”—he paused, bringing her closer, and she could hear the smile in his voice—“invite the neighbors over for terrible food…” He kissed her shoulder, his voice muffled by the fabric of her shirt. “To just be.”
Her eyes had fallen closed at his soft words, the reassurance of his touch, and she let herself have that one long moment to relish it, to live that imaginary life with him. He hadn’t truly meant it. They both understood the stakes, knew such a life was not an option for them until the shadows were stopped, until the Seven were saved, but when she opened them again, meeting his gaze in the mirror, the wanting there, that answering wish was enough. For him to know that she wanted it too.
She turned into his arms, no longer hiding from her reflection, but seeking more than merely a reproduction of Logan. His hand came up to cradle her face, warm as his thumb brushed lightly over her uninjured cheek. They were too far apart; she raised her heels to meet him, and his mouth lowered to hers, unable to resist her pull. Logan’s touch was gentle, soft and slow, and her lips parted to deepen the kiss. His free hand slid over her back, down to the curve of her waist, and she drew him closer still. It could be the last time they touched, the shadows in her visions tearing at them, ripping them apart, and it was heartbreaking.
Logan drew back first, probably all too aware of Brianna’s injuries, and she stared up at him, memorizing his face in that moment, wanting to have it for recall when the other images came, the horrible, blood-filled visions that burned into her consciousness. There were plenty of words to be said, but neither spoke them, because “if we die tomorrow” is never the best preface to confess your feelings.
“So,” Brianna said, sighing deeply, “I suppose there’s work to be done.”
Logan smiled at her, leaning down for one more kiss. The tip of his nose trailed over her cheek, sending shivers down her spine on its way. He stopped to press a kiss at the base of her jaw, and then brushed her ear with his lips, whispering, “First, you should eat.”
His tone was way too suggestive for the comment, and she laughed, despite their ill-fated situation. “Food,” she said, drawing free to see his face.
He shrugged, unabashed, and she smiled. Whatever she thought she’d seen behind Logan’s gaze was gone. He was nothing but open, in this with her one hundred percent, no reservations.
She was hungry, once Logan had managed to dislodge the dread from the pit of her stomach, and hot food improved her mood considerably. But when nothing was left to distract her, it began to creep back in. She pushed her chair away from the table, tucking a strand of now-damp hair behind her ear. “I need to go to the library.” Her gaze met Logan’s. “And we’ll need to meet with Emily and Aern.”
Logan nodded, recognizing the change in her tone, and led the way to her door. Deprived of reliable electronics, they’d been forced to send runners through the Council halls for any urgent message, and two of them waited outside for just such a task. Once Logan had given his message, Daniels approached, a quick grin for Brianna melting away as he reported the status on new communications devices and which parts of the property were temporarily unsecure. They’d had some time to work while she’d slept, but having to install not only replacement equipment and barriers, but stronger ones was taking a while.
They walked through the corridor, passing a few Council men and women on their way. Brianna could see the change in them. It wasn’t all fear, which concerned her. There was an overall sense of reverence, an unwavering confidence in their leaders they’d not felt since before Morgan’s destruction of Council, and she couldn’t help but think they were so wrong.
They were meeting with Emily and Aern to start, and she and Logan had arrived first to Aern’s office. It was Council’s main office suite, its center room one of the oldest, most authentic on the estate. A window highlighted the back wall, positioned directly behind a large mahogany desk, and inset shelving lined the wall on their left. A pair of small tables sat against the right wall, crystal decanter and glasses on one, metal sculpture on the second. Above the tables hung a pair of portraits, some ancient leaders of the Seven Lines, unfamiliar to Brianna. It was between those portraits where her stare rested, a massive inlaid circle that heralded the coming of the Seven Lines. She knew it to be that, and a proclamation, because it was written in the ancient language.