There's always that cold voice at the back of Harrow's mind at times like these, the one that reminds her of her unworthiness, of the inexcusable things she's done--to Gideon, to the other sons and daughters of the Ninth, the crimes and violations she's wrought from even before the moment of her first breath. Gideon says I love you, and that voice says You shouldn't, and Harrow has to work at listening to only one of them. Tonight, she manages it, her fingers gliding over Gideon's jaw, tracing the bone just under the skin.
"Keep going," she says, then stops again, her cheeks flushing red. Harrow at a loss for words is a rare thing, humiliating and helpless, but the vastness of the possibility in front of her--everything they could do, everything she might find herself able to allow--leaves her floundering.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2021-09-22 09:09 pm (UTC)"Keep going," she says, then stops again, her cheeks flushing red. Harrow at a loss for words is a rare thing, humiliating and helpless, but the vastness of the possibility in front of her--everything they could do, everything she might find herself able to allow--leaves her floundering.