Why had I fought it for so long? Why hadn’t I told him from that very first night that I couldfeelhim? That the agony ripping through my chest silently demanded I go across the room and tangle my fingers in his dark hair? I’d pushed him, but I’d wanted totouchhim.
Every time he’d shown up in my dreams, a part of me had wanted to break down and crawl beneath his skin so I could run my lips across his soul and give him my confession—I thought about him even when I shouldn’t have.
I wanted him.
No…
Not want.
It wasn’t justwant.
I needed him.
I didn’t open my eyes when I raised my hands and twisted my fingers into cool strands of hair. A low grunt sounded above me and I jerked him down at the same time I lifted myself up.
“Cole, wait?—”
I didn’twantto wait. I didn’t want to talk or think. I just wanted to feel him pressed against me. I climbed into his lap and the chill of his skin penetrated through me, stealing away some of the heat burning across my bones.
“Touch me.” I finally forced my eyes open, and found myself drowning in a sea of molten agony—guilt and desire and terror swirling in a torrent that threatened to drown me.
“You don’t know what you’re saying.” The soft rumble of his plea wasn’t a deterrent. If anything, it made me want to be closer. It was like a balm all along my bruised soul—I could feel all the places in my life that had ever been broken, and the sound of his voice settled into those cracks like molten gold poured along pottery.
Kintsugi.
He was making me whole—his voice alone could make me something more beautiful than anything I’d ever been before.
I shifted closer, wrapping my arms around him as tight as I could and burying my face against the curve of his neck.
Something was slightly off about it when I pressed my lips there, and it took me a moment to realize I couldn’t feel a pulse.
I couldn’t feel anything, even though the place where we were pressed together held a thundering heartbeat.
The same one pulsing in my throat, ripe at the back of my tongue.
My own heart, trapped behind his ribs. Safe in his chest.
Safe.
He wanted to keep me safe.
I lifted my head and ran my lips along his jawline, and I felt his entire body tense at the motion.
“I need it,” I whispered, my words soft and husky, an aching plea I couldn’t seem to stop. “I need…”
What did I need?
Something about what was happening was echoing in the back of my head—a scream that something was off.
That this was…
“If you don’t get him off me, I’m not sure what I’m going to do.” The man’s voice was ragged, punched out and pain-filled… and then there were arms wrapping around my shoulders and yanking me back. When I glanced down, the fingers holding me were tipped with black claws.
Black claws…
Sharp.
Rending.
