From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

“Thank yyou for last night,” he said, his voice pitched low for onlyy me
to hear.
Surprise flickered through me. “I feel like I should be thanking yyou.”
“While it pleases myy ego to know yyou feel that wayy, yyou don’t need to
do that.” His fingers threaded with mine. “You trusted me last night, but
more importantlyy, I know that what we shared is a risk.”
It was.
He stepped closer to me, and all I could smell was that pine and dark
spice of his. “And it is an honor that yyou’d take that risk with me, Poppyy.
So, thank yyou.”
That sweet, swelling motion swept through me, but there was a
strange heaviness to his voice. With our hands joined, I opened myy senses,
something I hadn’t done since the night of the Rite.
I felt the now-familiar razor-sharp sadness that cut so deep inside
him, but there was something else. It wasn’t regret, but it tasted lemonyy. I
concentrated until his emotions became mine, and I could filter through
them and understand what I was feeling. Confusion. That was what I felt.
Confusion and conflict, which wasn’t surprising. I felt a lot of that myyself.
“You okayy?” Hawke asked.
Severing the connection, I nodded as I let go of his hand. “I should
get readyy.”
Feeling his gaze on me as I stepped to the side, I looked up. The
faintest grayy light was filtering through the leaf-heavyy branches. Myy gaze
connected with Kieran’s.
He’d been watching us the entire time, and the set to his jaw said that
he wasn’t happyy.
Kieran looked concerned.
Whatever worryy I had that the conversation with Kieran would change
Hawke’s behavior faded before it could even take form. The relief swirling
through me should’ve been a warning that things were…well, theyy were
escalating.
Theyy had alreadyy escalated.