This wasn’t just a kiss.
It was possession. It was worship. It was war disguised as surrender.
She tasted like rebellion, and I took every ounce of it—flicks of her tongue against mine, sharp gasps when my mouth claimed her throat again, the way her nails dug into my chest like she didn’t care if she scarred me.
The air thickened with need, static clinging to our skin like a storm about to break.
I pulled back only when I had to—when the ache in my lungs reminded me I was still human.
And fuck, she looked ruined.
Flushed cheeks. Wild eyes. Kiss-bruised lips parted with the softest, most maddening sound I’d ever heard.
I touched my forehead to hers, our breaths tangling. “Do you see what you do to me?” I whispered, my voice shaking with everything I wouldn’t let myself say.
Then I kissed her again—hard.
Devouring her like she was the only thing that could save me from myself.
And maybe she was.
I pulled away, my breath ragged, chest burning with everything I didn’t say. Everything I couldn’t say.
“Home,” I growled—one word, sharp and final.
Not a question.
She swallowed but didn’t flinch. No fight. No hesitation. Just wide, storm-lit eyes holding mine like she wasn’t sure if she’d just lost something or won.
She made it so damn easy to follow the edge of madness.
She didn’t speak.
Just walked.
And I followed, because I had no other choice. Not anymore.
We made it back to the front, her fingers brushing mine—then slipping between them like it was natural. Like we’d done this a hundred times before. Like she belonged there.
Belle looked up as we approached, sharp eyes flicking between us. If she noticed Persephone’s kiss-swollen mouth, the flushed cheeks, the air still vibrating around us like thunderclouds—she had the good sense to keep quiet.
Smart girl.
She knew better than to poke at something burning.
I leaned against the counter, eyes locked on Persephone while she settled up with my black card. I didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just watched—the curve of her lips, the spark in her eyes when she looked at Belle like they’d known each other forever. That quiet bond—unexpected and irritatingly intimate—stirred something sharp in my chest.
Then Belle leaned in.
Her voice low. Playful. But not without weight.
“Don’t break him.”
I froze.
Persephone didn’t miss a beat. She smiled—slow and dangerous. “I think we’re already breaking each other.”
I didn’t flinch.
