Kell tucked her in close and she almost felt the walls coming down, as he'd done before for her. She slipped inside and wrapped herself around him, too content to be completely entwined with Kell in that moment. In truth, she could do little else. He would feel her there, pressed to him, warmth and strength and solidity (and want).

But she had forgotten he did not need to breathe. It never occurred to her, not when he was still talking, still moving, still cognizant. The thoughts of Kell's death fled from her when his arms slipped around her. Her tongue brushed over the roof of his mouth, a fleeting gesture, and then she needed to part so she could drag a steadying breath into her lungs.

That close, Neria needed to only tip her gaze upward to look him in the eyes. Their mouths were too close. The temptation to keep kissing him was too much.

"If you don't tell me to stop," she breathed, "I'm not going to."

A final chance to tell her this was enough, even if she felt she already knew the answer.