And if she wants, a place to call home.
She turns back to me, a small smile on her red lips, her hair catching the fading light.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs, voice soft.
I want to say it back.You’re beautiful. Just two words. Simple. Harmless. Or maybe not. Maybe they’d change everything—or ruin it.
I swallow the heat rising in my chest, bite down on my tongue, and clamp the words inside.Not yet. Not here.
For now, I let her presence wrap around me like a current I can’t—or don’t want to—resist.
Maybe it’s crazy. Maybe this whole thing is built on a lie, on signatures and secrets and a last-ditch way to protect her.But standing here, in my world—withher—one thought burns through everything else.
Maybe I want it to be real.
By the time we wander back to the bedroom, dusk has started to fall, painting the sky in shades of gold and violet. The glass doors to balcony stand open, a soft breeze spilling through, carrying with it the faint hum of Los Angeles below.
Seraphina stands there, her white lace dress catching the dying light, the fabric rippling gently around her legs. She’s barefoot, and her hair—loosened slightly from the braid—shimmers like fire under the fading sun.
When she turns, glancing back over her shoulder, she smiles.
Fuck.
My lungs forget how to work.
Don’t you fucking smile at me with that tone of voice.
I should take my leave and clear my head.
She’s standing there—my wife—framed by the horizon, the city stretching endlessly behind her. My chest tightens. My heart kicks hard, thudding against my ribs so suddenly I look down, palm flattening over it like I might be able to calm it.
This isn’t good. Not fucking good at all.
I can feel it thrumming through me—this pull, this heat. Why did I think ditching the guys and eloping here was a good idea? To get her home? Keep her safe? Just lock myself away with this witchy-woo, don’t look, don’t touch…
Maybe we could…
You know we should…
Ah, fuck it.
It’s no use. The rhythm in my chest, the ache in my gut—they’ve gone wild. I push off the doorframe, each step measured, deliberate, like gravity itself is dragging me closer to her.
Her scent hits me, sharp and sweet, tugging at some instinct I can’t ignore.
I know—fuck, I know—that when I reach her, the world is going to tilt, and there’s no going back.She doesn’t move—just watches me, the same soft smile tugging at her pretty painted lips. When I reach her, I lift a hand, sliding it along the delicate curve of her jaw, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. My thumb lingers a beat too long, tracing the edge of her cheekbone.
“You really are beautiful, Seraphina.” I say, voice low and rough.
Her lips part slightly, her breath catching before she whispers, “So are you.”
That smile of hers does something to me. Something dangerous.
A slow, wicked grin tugs at my mouth as I step closer, my hands finding her waist. I feel the warmth of her body through the thin lace, the rise and fall of her breath syncing with mine. She’s so close now that there’s no space left between us—just heat, pulse, and the unbearable awareness of her.
This is for science, right? Just to see how she responds.
Yeah. For science.
