His thumb traces my knuckles, slow. “For you. I would do it again. Ten times, a hundred.” He hesitates, searching my eyes. “You matter to me, Sera. I know it isn’t simple. I know you hate parts of this life, maybe even parts of me. You’re mine, you know that now.”
The words slice through me, sharp and sweet. I swallow, fighting the tears that prick my eyes. “I used to dream of leaving. I thought if I could just get away—get free—I’d go back to who Iwas. I don’t think I want that anymore.” My voice shakes. “Not if it means losing this. Losing you.”
Miron’s hand cups my cheek, thumb wiping away a tear I didn’t notice fall. He leans in, breath warm against my skin. “You don’t have to go anywhere.”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “Do I even know how to want freedom anymore?”
He searches my face, voice rough. “You know what you want. You always have.”
I look down, tracing the shape of his fingers, memorizing the scars, the calluses. “What if I want you? Even after everything? Even after you chained me to your bed, even after you terrified me?” I force myself to meet his gaze, voice trembling with honesty. “What if I want you more than I want to be safe?”
Miron’s eyes flare, equal parts relief and hunger. He draws me closer, pressing his forehead to mine. “Then you’re as lost as I am.”
My arms wind around his neck, holding tight. Our lips meet, slow and searching, the kiss more confession than conquest. His touch is rough, his grip possessive, but there’s a gentleness underneath, a desperation that mirrors my own. We cling to each other, letting the war outside our door fade, letting the world shrink to just this bed, these hands, these hearts beating wild and fast.
After, we lie tangled together, sweat drying on our skin, my cheek pressed to his chest. He strokes my hair, his other hand splayed across my back, as if anchoring me to him.
For a long time, neither of us speaks. Then, softly, he murmurs, “Do you regret it?”
I shake my head, nose brushing his collarbone. “I should, but I don’t. I don’t want to be free if it means being without you.”
His grip tightens, breath shuddering. “You’re mine, little raven. Always.”
I laugh, shaky and a little wild. “Maybe you’re mine too.”
He huffs, pressing a kiss to my hair. “No maybe about it.”
The room is dark but warm, the sheets twisted around our bodies. My heart pounds with fear and longing and something dangerously close to joy. I think of the woman I was when I first came here—frightened, stubborn, convinced love and hate were opposites.
Now I know the truth: they are two sides of the same blade. I love him for the danger, the darkness, the way he fights for me. I hate him for the chains, for the violence, for making me need him so much it aches.
In the end, there’s no escape I want. Not if it means letting go. The knowledge trembles through me: I am his, and he is mine. The war has been fought and won not with violence, but with the slow, relentless breaking and remaking of my heart. He didn’t conquer me by force. He conquered me by making me want to stay.
In the hush of his room, with Miron’s arms locked around me and the world held at bay, I finally surrender. I don’t want freedom. I wanthim.
Chapter Twenty-Six - Miron
The scars are fading. Pain is only a memory now, a faint ache when I twist just so, a reminder of what nearly slipped from my hands.
Sera’s eyes find those marks sometimes—her gaze softer than I deserve, fingers tracing over the ruined skin as if she could erase the violence with touch alone. There is no threat tonight. The city is quiet.
The house is locked down, every guard posted. Nothing exists beyond this room: no enemies, no blood, no war—just her and the way my name sounds in her mouth.
She stands at the foot of the bed, bare feet curling into the carpet, light from the lamp gilding her skin. Her breath is shallow, chest rising and falling in a rhythm that tugs at something deep inside me.
I reach for her, palm open, and she comes willingly, sliding onto my lap with her knees on either side of my thighs. The heat between us is immediate, electric. I rest my hands on her hips, thumbs stroking circles against her bare waist.
She leans in, lips brushing mine. I taste her sigh: soft, uncertain, hungry. My hands move up, cupping her face, angling her mouth to mine. I kiss her slow, savoring the way she melts into me. There’s no need to rush. I want every sound, every shiver, every gasp. I want to own her pleasure, yes, but tonight, I want to give it back just as fiercely.
I break the kiss, tugging her shirt over her head, letting it fall to the floor. Her hair tumbles wild, her eyes wide and dark. My lips trail down her throat, teeth grazing the delicate skin where her pulse flutters beneath.
She gasps when I bite, when I soothe the sting with my tongue.
My hands roam, rough palms skimming her ribs, her back, the slope of her ass. I slide her panties down her thighs, not breaking eye contact, savoring the flush that stains her cheeks.
“You’re beautiful, love.” My voice is low, hungry. She obeys, trembling slightly, trusting me to take her apart.
I ease her down onto the bed, my hands guiding every motion, every breath. Her legs open beneath my touch, her hips lifting to meet my mouth.
