"Because you matter more than my comfort. Your safety, your dreams, your bakery. They matter."
Tears gather in her eyes. "But not enough to choose me."
The words destroy something fundamental within me. "Trinity?—"
"Don't." She wipes her eyes with floury hands, leaving white streaks on her cheeks. "Just don't. You've made your position clear."
She turns back to her mixing, dismissing me with brutal efficiency. I want to stay, to find words that explain without breaking oaths or revealing vulnerabilities that could be weaponized against both of us.
Instead, I leave her to her baking and begin planning how to destroy Darren Strange without destroying myself in the process.
The oath burns, but Trinity's tears burn hotter.
Something has to give.
The rain falls in sheets, turning the carefully arranged set into a muddy disaster. The producers wanted "romantic atmosphere" for this challenge, but nature has other plans. The wind howls through the fake pavilion's supports, making the structure groan like it might collapse at any moment.
Trinity stands under the pavilion's partial shelter, arms wrapped around herself. Her thin dress clings to her body, soaked through. When lightning flashes, I see her shiver.
"Come here." My voice carries over the storm.
She hesitates, then steps closer. I pull her against my chest, wrapping my arms around her. The heat of her body seeps through our wet clothes.
"Better?" I ask into her hair.
"Much." Her voice muffles against my chest. "Though I think the producers wanted us to have a picturesque picnic, not huddle for survival."
I grunt. "Their plans rarely survive reality."
She laughs, the sound vibrating between us. The rain drums harder, a relentless rhythm that matches something primal in my blood. My hands flex against her back, feeling the delicate bones beneath her skin.
Trinity tilts her head up. Raindrops cling to her lashes. "Korgan?"
"Yes?"
"Stop thinking so hard."
I blink water from my eyes. "What?"
She rises on her toes, her breath warm against my lips. "You're always thinking three steps ahead. Planning. Strategizing." Her fingers trace my jaw. "Just... be here with me. Now."
Then her mouth presses to mine, and all thoughts dissolve into sensation.
Her lips are soft but insistent, demanding a response I'm helpless to deny. My hands slide down to her waist, pulling her tighter against me. She makes a small sound, her fingers tangling in my hair.
The kiss deepens, her tongue tracing my lips before I open for her. The taste of her—sweet and warm and uniquely Trinity—fills my senses. My hands map the curve of her spine, the flare of her hips, learning her shape through the slick fabric.
She breaks away just enough to speak. "Is this okay?"
"More than." My voice comes out rougher than intended.
Her smile flashes before she kisses me again, her body pressing closer. The rain hides nothing, reveals everything—the way her dress clings to her curves, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the flush spreading across her skin.
I growl low in my throat, the sound lost in the storm. My hands slide under her thighs, lifting her against me. She wrapsher legs around my waist with a gasp, the new angle letting me grind against her.
"Bedroom's probably nicer," she murmurs between kisses.
"Too far." I walk us backward until we reach one of the pavilion's support beams. The wood presses against her back as I pin her there, my body covering hers.
