Lennox's POV
I stared at her, lost.
Truly lost.
For a second, I didn't understand what she meant when she said she wanted me—but then there was no time to think at all because she surged forward and slammed her lips against mine.
It was so hard and desperate.
The kind of kiss that didn't ask permission, didn't hesitate, and didn't care about consequences.
Goddess.
My hands reacted before my mind could stop them, gripping her waist, pulling her closer, my body remembering her far too well. The feel of her mouth, the way she fit against me—it all came rushing back like I had never left.
Like I had never died.
And that was exactly why this couldn't happen.
This would end in tragedy.
Because right now, I wasn't Lennox.
I was Kaine.
And when the alcohol faded—when the fog lifted—she would wake up with this moment burned into her memory and hate herself for it. Hate me. Hate the weakness grief had dragged out of her. She would fall into a great pain and regret.
