I leaned back into him, letting my head drop against his chest. The heat pulled the last nerves from my limbs, replaced with a floaty, narcotic softness. I closed my eyes, wanting nothing but the thump of his heart and the wet slip of his skin against mine.
We said nothing for a while. The fizz of the bath salts and the hush of the air vent were the only sounds. I didn’t need him to talk, but I wanted to fill the space with something that wasn’t just the ghosts of what had happened outside; I wanted to stitch this moment into a different memory, one that could outlast the bruises.
I reached behind me, found his hand, and pulled it to rest over my heart. “You know you didn’t hurt me, right?” I said. “I mean, not any way that matters.”
He made a noise—half laugh, half broken sigh. “You say that,” he said, “but you’re shaking.”
“I’d shake worse if you left,” I said, and realized I meant it. “It’s not fear. It’s just—the chemicals, I guess. I’ve never been claimed before—not like that.” I swallowed; the words felt weird in my mouth, but not bad. “Not by someone who actually wanted to keep me.”
He nuzzled my neck, lips brushing the place behind my ear that was still raw from his bite. “I want to,” he said, quiet but steady. “I want to keep you. Every bit. I don’t care if it’s a day or a lifetime. I want you.”
I let that sit for a second. I could feel my own heart drumming under his palm, a wild, unsteady rhythm, but it didn’t scare me. It felt right, even if the rest of me was still a mess.
I twisted in the water, just enough to see his eyes, dark now but not empty. "There's something you should know," I said, water lapping at my collarbone. "I've never done this before—not with a demon, but with anyone. I'm usually the one who stays too long, clinging to relationships like life rafts even after they've sprung leaks."
He grinned, the old arrogance back but softer at the edges. "So you're a stubborn one," he said.
That made me laugh, which hurt in my chest and then made everything better. "You like that I don't know when to quit?"
"I love it," he said, honest and quick. "I love that you hold on when others would let go." His finger traced slow circles on my sternum. "That's how I know you're real. That's how I know we won't end before we've even begun."
I let the water work its way between my toes, the heat seeping into joints and muscles I hadn’t known I’d used. My eyelids felt heavy, the weight of everything—sex, chase, food, this—piling up on top of the last two days of not knowing how to relax without first being wrecked. I tried to sit up, but Samiel’s arms just tightened around me, pinning me with a gentleness I wanted to sob about.
“You think this is going to stay good?” I asked him, not quite a whisper, but softer than anything I’d said before. “You think you won’t get bored? Or annoyed by having me around?”
He didn’t answer right away. His chin rested on top of my head, his breath slow and steady. “I think there’s a version of me,” he said, “that could live a million years and never get tired of you. I think there’s a version of you that would get tired of yourself before I ever did.” He paused, like he was afraid to keep going, but then he did. “I’m not a good liar, Annie.” He squeezed me once, just enough to make my ribs creak. “I want you. That’s the only real thing I’ve ever had.”
I made a noise. “You’ll have me. I’ll make sure of it.” The words came out slurred, and I realized with a jolt that my whole body was winding down, a clockwork animal that had finally run out of keys.
I must’ve drifted a little, because the next thing I knew the water was cooler, my skin puckered and soft, and Samiel was holding me upright, his hands solid and careful under my arms.
“You’re falling asleep,” he murmured, and there was a smile in his voice, the kind you heard on the last day of summer.
“Wasn’t sleeping,” I lied, but my neck flopped sideways when I tried to shake it, and a giggle snuck out, lazy and loose.
He stood up, water sluicing off his chest, and scooped me out with zero effort, not even a grunt. He toweled me off, his hands methodical, and I wanted to protest, wanted to be awake for the part where he carried me to bed and tucked me in, but my eyes wouldn’t stay open. I remember the brush of his claws on my scalp, the gentle way he plaited my hair so it wouldn’t tangle in the night, the way he tucked the sheets in around me like I was precious.
When he climbed in beside me, the heat of him made the whole bed feel like a nest. I rolled toward him, no thought, no plan, just the gravitational certainty that this was where I belonged. He wrapped my whole self into him, arms wrapped around his ribs like a life vest. He kissed my forehead, then my eyelid, and finally the corner of my mouth. The taste of him, clean and metallic, lingered there as I faded hard and fast.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
Samiel
Iwatched her sleep. The night pressed in at the windows, blue-black and absolute, but the bed was a bubble of heat, Annie’s breaths rising and falling in the rhythm of trust. I lay behind her, a hand spread over her ribs, counting the flex and give of her lungs. She’d curled herself backward into me, tangle of hair pillowed on my shoulder, the arch of her ass resting against my lap like she was daring me to wake her with teeth. She didn’t know what she was doing to me. Or maybe she did and wanted it anyway.
The marks I’d left on her already darkened: a purple-and-red necklace on her throat, bite impressions on her shoulder, a fan of bruises blossoming across the backs of her thighs. Underneath the covers, I traced them with a claw, not breaking skin this time, just outlining where I’d taken her and where I’d stopped. She flinched in her sleep, a shudder running up her back, and I stilled—not wanting to pull her out of whatever deep, dark place she’d gone. She deserved the rest. She’d earned it.
But if I was honest, I liked seeing my claim on her. I’d never wanted to own anyone, never felt the impulse that turned men into monsters or monsters into gods. But with Annie, the idea of someone else’s hands on her, someone else’s mouth, was enough to make my pulse spike and my cock stiffen even after hours of wringing her dry. I wanted to keep her. Not just tonight. Not just for the ninety days. I wanted to keep her forever, if she’d let me.
She shifted, rolling onto her back, and the sheet slid down to her hips. Her chest rose, bare and marked, the right nipple swollen and red from where I’d sucked and bitten her until she’d begged for mercy. The skin there was raw, but not broken. I felt a weird, slow pride at the sight. She wasn’t fragile. She was fucking indestructible. I wanted to see how far that went, how much more I could give her before either of us broke for good.
I pressed my mouth to her shoulder, careful, and she stirred again—this time drifting toward waking. Her lips parted and a string of low, lazy syllables slid out, half-words and half-moan. She blinked up at me, the whites of her eyes shock-bright in the dark.
“Time is it?” she croaked, voice gone hoarse.
“Just after three,” I said. “You can sleep if you want.”
