“Then how am I supposed to practice?”
“I’ll think of something.”
“A paper cut?”
He dropped his head in his hands.
* * *
After a few rounds of what Alessa dubbed “touch training,” Dante sprawled in his go-to armchair with a history of ghiotte hunting while Alessa tried her best not to disturb him with her pacing.
Dante’s eyes flicked to her, heavy-lidded with annoyance. “Go to sleep.”
“I’m not tired.” Her body, her business. Sleeping was the last thing she wanted to do. She wanted to celebrate. Or something. There’d been no paper cuts or other injuries in the past few hours, since Dante swore he’d quit if she even thought about injuring herself again, so she’d focused on fine-tuning the flow of power instead. Less effective than using his gift, but it meant hours studying his reactions until she could read his comfort by the tension in his hands, the size of his pupils. She was learning about her power by studying him. And she wanted more.
More of Dante.
His friendship. His secrets. His feelings. His touch.
“Read a book or something, will you?” Dante rolled his shoulders back.
“I can’t. I’m too wound up.” For the first time in years, she could touch without hurting someone, and every moment she didn’t, she thought about doing so. Any kind of touch. All kinds. The brush of a hand, a hug, a shoulder to rest her head on. And other touches, the kind she had no memories of, but wanted.
Like an animal emerging from hibernation, ravenous and focused on one overriding need, she couldn’t stop craving what she’d been denied for so long.
“I give up.” Dante marked his page with a dagger bookmark. “I can’t concentrate with you flapping around the room.”
“I’m not flapping.” Alessa pressed her hands to her side to stop them from—dammit—flapping. She wouldn’t be greedy. She could live with a platonic friendship—maybe—if she could curl up in his arms and be reminded she was still a person beneath the Finestra. He’d be gone in a few days, and she was a coward.
Even a normal girl couldn’t casually ask a boy to—what? Cuddle? Hold hands for reasons less pure than saving the world?
“I’ve never heard anyone sigh so loud in my life,” Dante groaned.
She flushed. “I’m sorry. It’s become a bad habit.”
“Sighing?”
“Pacing. I’ve never been good at settling myself.”
“How hard can it be? Stop moving, fall asleep.”
“Maybe for you. My father used to have to pin me in a full-body bind to get me to stop wiggling so I’d sleep.”
“That checks out.” Dante rubbed his temples. “Just come here, already, and put me out of my misery.”
“Very funny. I can’t kill you, remember?”
“I’m not asking you to kill me. I’m not good for much, but I am a warm body. I have a book I wanted to finish anyway.”
Her heart leapt, but her feet didn’t move.
Dante dropped his chin with a look of eternal suffering. “Offer expires in ten seconds.”
She hurried over.
He was so big, there wasn’t much room left on the oversized chair. Dante waved at the triangle of open space between his thighs and made a spinning motion with his finger, like she was the world’s hardest to train puppy.
Alessa perched on the edge of the chair, hands folded in her lap. “Stop thinking so loud,” she said, glad she couldn’t see his face. “I can hear you laughing at me in your head.”
“You look like you’re sitting on a bed of nails.”
Alessa crossed her arms. “I haven’t done this in a while.”
“Done what?”
“Snuggled. Cuddled. Whichever word you use.”
“I don’t use either of those words.”
“Wolves don’t cuddle?”
“Not when the lady wolf’s all stiff and cranky. That’ll get you bitten.”
He hooked her waist and hauled her back to lean against his chest, shifting her until she was where he wanted her. His other arm came around her. To hold his book.
“Will you relax? I can’t see over your head when you’re so stiff.”
She forced herself to unclench so he could tuck her head beneath his chin, but she was too distracted by the rise and fall of his chest to see anything but squiggles on the page.
“Will you read for a bit?” she asked.
“I am reading.”