By the time they reached the car park, Jase had had enough. The walk had been silent, Celeste's steps quick, her arms wrapped around herself. He noticed the tension in her shoulders, her uneven breaths, her fingers gripping her sleeves. Then he saw the faint tremor in her hands. She was still shaking.
Jase stopped walking, his patience thinning as frustration coiled tight in his chest. "You're still shaking."
Celeste blinked, startled out of whatever thoughts had been keeping her distracted. Her brows furrowed slightly as she looked down at her hands, as if realizing for the first time that they were trembling. "What?"
Jase turned to face her, his golden eyes scanning her. His jaw tightened. He didn't like seeing her like this, not knowing if it was from the cold or from what still lingered in her mind after what had happened. Whatever it was, he hated it.
"It's late," he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. "Get in the car. I'll drive you home."
Celeste hesitated for half a second, her lips parting as if she was about to refuse, but the weight of his tone made it clear. This wasn't up for debate. Jase wasn't asking.
She let out a small sigh, her expression torn between stubbornness and reluctant agreement before finally nodding. "Fine."
Jase smirked, a brief flicker of amusement breaking the tension before he turned and led her to the black car at the curb. The engine's quiet hum cut through the silence. He opened the passenger door, waiting for her to get in before closing it.
But as he walked around to the driver's side, his smirk faded, his expression darkening.
Because no matter how much he tried to push it aside, the truth gnawed at him like an unspoken warning.
Something was wrong. And whatever it was, it wasn't going away.
Celeste sank into the passenger seat, the warmth of the car easing the stiffness in her body. The faint scent of leather and something distinctly him lingered in the air. Jase slid into the driver's seat, one hand on the wheel, the other adjusting the temperature before pulling onto the road. For a while, neither of them spoke.
The soft hum of the engine and the rain against the windshield felt oddly peaceful after everything that had happened. The tension in her chest had eased but still lingered, unspoken. Celeste watched the blurred streetlights pass.
Then, finally, she broke the silence.
"…Your eyes."
Jase arched a brow slightly, keeping his gaze on the road. "What about them?"
Celeste hesitated, shifting slightly in her seat before murmuring, "They are golden whenever I see them. And they glow… sometimes."
Jase was quiet for a moment, his fingers tapping lightly against the wheel before he finally responded. "That's normal for a Luminary."
Celeste frowned slightly, turning to look at him. "Normal? But I didn't notice when I talked to Amy."
Jase sighed, as if he already knew where this conversation was going. His grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, his knuckles flexing.
"All Luminaries have golden eyes," he explained, his voice even, measured. "But they react to a certain person…"
He paused.
Celeste's stomach flipped slightly, her pulse skipping a beat.
To a certain person?
Jase glanced at her then, as if sensing exactly what she was thinking, before his next words shattered whatever fragile balance had been left between them.
"Whenever I look at you… they brighten."
Celeste's entire body froze, her breath stuttering slightly in her throat, as if the air had suddenly been sucked out of the car.
"W-What?"
Jase smirked, but it was different, less teasing, more deliberate. He didn't answer right away, taking a slow turn down the empty street, his fingers loose on the wheel. When he spoke again, his voice was calm, almost casual.
"That's how a Luminary knows they've met their soulmate."
Celeste's heartbeat skipped violently.
Her hands instinctively tightened around the fabric of her seatbelt, something unfamiliar twisting deep inside her.
"Soulmate?" she repeated, as if saying the word aloud would make it make sense.
Jase hummed, as if this was just another conversation to him. "Yup. It happens."
Celeste stared at him, her mind struggling to process what he was saying. The words felt too big, too heavy, pressing against her chest in a way that made it hard to breathe. "And… how do you know?" she asked, voice quieter now, hesitant.
Jase's grip on the wheel tightened slightly. His jaw flexed, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his features.
"We can feel it," he admitted quietly, his voice shifting, becoming something lower, something softer. "It's like… a pull. The moment we meet them, it's impossible to ignore."
His voice had changed again. There was something uncertain, something hesitant, something dangerous.
Celeste swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "And… you believe in that?"
Jase's jaw tensed. His golden eyes flickered in the dim lighting of the car, the glow in them unmistakable now.
"I didn't," he murmured, the weight of those two words pressing against the air like an unspoken confession.
Then, finally, he turned to her, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that made her chest tighten.
"Until recently."
Celeste's breath hitched.
And for the first time, she didn't look away.
The air inside the car felt heavy, making it hard for Celeste to think. The silence between them was unbroken and tense. Jase turned the wheel, pulling into her driveway. The car stopped, but neither of them moved or spoke.
Celeste still felt the shadow of the earlier attack. Something else lingered between them, silent and heavy, drawing them closer. Her fingers trembled in her lap and her pulse raced, her heart pounding hard against her ribs.
"…Jase."
His name left her lips before she could stop it, barely more than a whisper, but it was enough.
He turned to look at her.
Celeste's breath caught.
His golden eyes were glowing brighter than before. Brighter than she had ever seen them.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
The glow in his gaze was steady, and Celeste felt it deep in her chest. She had always known Jase was different, not just another Luminary, not someone she could ignore.
Then, before she could stop herself, before she could think about what she was saying, she whispered, "Why do they only glow when you look at me?"
Jase exhaled slowly, his fingers flexing against the gear shift, his jaw tightening just slightly, just enough for her to see that this wasn't effortless for him, that something was shifting inside him the same way it was inside her.
"…You already know why."
Celeste's chest tightened, her pulse roaring in her ears, drowning out everything else.
The tension was unbearable.
She should look away. She should open the door, get out of the car, put distance between them before this turned into something she couldn't take back.
She should do anything but what she was about to do.
But then—
Jase reached out and his fingers brushed her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The touch was brief but warm, making her breath catch and her pulse race. His knuckles skimmed her cheekbone with a light, lingering motion. The air between them grew heavier with unspoken tension.
Celeste froze, her hands gripping her lap. The warmth of his touch lingered, settling deep in her stomach. It was different, and she couldn't ignore it.
Jase's golden eyes flickered lower just for a second toward her lips.
Celeste's breath hitched.
She didn't move. She didn't pull away and didn't want to.
The distance between them felt almost gone, his presence filling every breath and every nerve. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, faster than she could control. Jase leaned in, heat closing the space between them, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent warmth down her spine.
"…Do you want me to stop?"
Celeste swallowed, her throat tight, her fingers curling slightly in her lap, her mind spiraling between the thousands of reasons she should say yes.
But she didn't answer. Because the truth was she didn't want him to stop.
And he knew it.
So he didn't.
Jase's fingers lingered on her skin, light but deliberate. His knuckles brushed her cheek, sending heat through her veins. The space between them felt thin, and Celeste noticed his breath, the rise and fall of his chest, and the flicker in his golden eyes.
She swallowed, her lips parting, but no sound came out. Jase noticed.
His thumb skimmed her jawline, moving lower with slow precision, heat following his touch. Each inch made her breath catch and her fingers tighten in her lap. The movement was careful, almost hesitant, as if he was waiting for her to stop him.
But she didn't. His fingers traced her jaw and paused where her pulse raced. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through her. Celeste drew a sharp breath, her body still. His fingers lingered a moment longer, then he exhaled.
"Celeste."
Her name on his lips sent a shiver down her spine. It shouldn't sound like that or make her heart stumble. She shouldn't want this closeness or the heat between them, but she did, and it terrified her.
Jase's hand dropped, his fingers brushing her skin before pulling away. He didn't move back, leaning in until his breath touched her lips.
Celeste's fingers curled into her skirt, her breathing unsteady. His golden eyes stayed on her, a question in them she didn't need spoken. It was in his touch, in the way he said her name, in the tense stillness between them.
And then Jase moved closer.
The smallest movement, but enough. His nose brushed hers, making her breath falter. Her heart pounded, but she didn't move.
Jase hesitated, tension in his jaw and hands. He was on the edge of something he couldn't take back, and she didn't pull away.
His lips ghosted over hers, sending a shiver through her. His fingers lifted her chin, closing the last space. She gasped, and his hand moved to her throat, feeling her rapid pulse. He knew, and he didn't stop.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured. His voice was rough, low, thick with something she couldn't name. She should have said it. She didn't. She couldn't. And he knew.
His lips pressed fully to hers, slow and deliberate. The world tilted. Heat rushed through her, his kiss deep and steady, pulling her closer. His fingers tangled in her hair, holding her as though he couldn't let go.
And she didn't want him to.
Her hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer. His body was solid, warm, unyielding. Every movement of his mouth made it harder to think, harder to breathe.
It was a mistake. A Luminary and a Mortalis shouldn't be here. But she didn't care.
He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting on hers, his breath unsteady. His thumb brushed her lips, his gaze fierce and unguarded.
"Now you understand," he said.
Her chest tightened. She understood. And it terrified her. Because if she fell, she might never stop.