“Come on, angel,” I whisper, voice low and rough against her skin. “Let me have it.”
And when she breaks—head thrown back, free hand clutching my wrist, desperate for something to keep her grounded—it’s fucking beautiful.
She shudders through it, panting, her body flushed and glistening, her eyes barely open as I rise back up and press a soft kiss to her mouth.
She hums, dazed and content. “That definitely beat going back to the shop.”
I settle beside her, and she curls up into me, cheeks still pink, arm draped carefully over her stomach. I brush a strand of hair from her face and press a kiss to her temple.
She’s quiet for a second, then smiles.
“I can’t wait to see Bash’s reaction,” she murmurs. “He was so excited this morning. Totally bummed I wouldn’t let him stay home from school and come with us.”
I grin, imagining his wide eyes when he sees the ink. “He’s gonna lose it.”
“Yeah,” she says, eyes soft, voice fading into something sweeter. “He’ll love it.”
She dozes off, her hand on my chest, body tucked close.
I watch her sleep.
She’s tucked into my side like she belongs there. Like I’m not dangerous. Like I didn’t once drag a man into the woods and bury what was left of him so no one would find the teeth marks I left.
I’ve killed for people I cared about. Hurt others without blinking. Moved bodies. Burned evidence. Sat across from the devil and offered my soul just to make sure someone I loved didn’t have to suffer.
But this is harder.
Not the proposal. Not the ring. I knew the second she looked at me like I was worth keeping, I’d ask her to be mine. That part was easy. She already was mine.
What’s hard is this silence. The stillness. The part where no one’s bleeding and no one’s screaming and nothing’s on fire… and I’m supposed to exist.
I know how to be a weapon. The one who kicks the door down. Who handles it. Who never flinches.
I don’t know how to be hers.
Not like this. Not without looking over my shoulder.
The ring on her finger should feel like peace. It does. And doesn’t. Because peace is foreign. Peace is something I give to other people, not something I wear like a second skin.
She thinks I can be this man.
A partner. A future.
But the truth is, I’ve spent so long surviving in the dark, I’m not sure I’ll know how to breathe if no one’s trying to kill me.
The street, the fights, the bar, I know how to move in those places. I don’t know how to sit still and be loved.
But for her, I’ll learn.
When she leaves to pick up Bash, I wait until I hear the door close, then head downstairs.
The bar’s mostly quiet. The buzz of the cooler whirrs in my ears, the scent of wood polish at my nose, and the vibration of plotting in the air.
Will and JT are at the far end of the counter, both hunched over a notepad, a bottle of bourbon between them.
They look up when I walk in.
JT lifts a brow. “Sable asleep?”
