Seron didn't let go of her hand. If anything, his grip became gentler. Slowly, deliberately, his fingers slid between hers until their hands fit together completely, like muscle memory neither of them had managed to kill.
Acacia's breath caught. The warmth of his palm spread through her instantly, dangerous in how familiar it felt. She looked up at him sharply, ready to pull away, but the expression on his face stopped her cold.
He was staring at her like a man standing at the edge of something sacred. No arrogance. No teasing smile. Just that raw, almost frightening intensity burning in his eyes.
"Would you help me?" he asked softly. "Please." The word please sounded strange coming from him. Seron had never begged for anything in his life. Acacia swallowed carefully, trying to ignore the sudden heat climbing up her neck.
"Me?" she asked, forcing her voice to stay casual. "You want me to help you shave?" A faint smile touched his lips, tired but real.
