“I’m not manhandling you. I’m trying to keep you alive.”
Her chest rises and falls fast. “I didn’t ask for this.”
I growl. “I won’t watch you bleed because you think bravery is the same thing as recklessness.”
She steps closer, voice shaking. “I won’t survive if I stop being myself.”
I stare at her. Really look at her.
The defiance. The exhaustion. The strength she refuses to surrender, even when it costs her peace.
“I can’t lose you,” I say.
The words are out before I can stop them. I should regret them, but I don’t. The truth of those words hit me hard. I can’t lose Cassia.
Her breath catches.
“Don’t. Don’t say that. You can’t mean it,” she whispers.
“I do,” I reply. “Because it’s already true.”
The tension between us shifts, sharp and electric.
I step closer. She doesn’t retreat.
My hand lifts to her face, thumb brushing the smear of blood on her cheek.
“This is a mistake,” she murmurs.
“Yes,” I agree. But it;s going to be one I’ll keep making because she’s mine. She has to stay mine.
I kiss her. Lips claiming hers.
It’s not gentle.
It’s not careful.
It’s desperate and grounding and full of everything I’ve been denying since the moment I saw her stand up to me in my office after that vampire attacked her.
She kisses me back like she’s been waiting for permission.
I lift her, carry her to the bed, and lay her down like she’s something precious even as the hunger coils tight in my chest.
This isn’t about release.
It’s about anchoring.
It’s not about reminding myself I’m still capable of feeling something that isn’t rage or duty.
It’s about her. About claiming what is mine.
Her hands grip my shirt, her breath hitching against my skin, and I feel myself unravel in a way I haven’t allowed in centuries. More than centuries. I don’t remember the last time I’ve ever felt anything like this.
Cassia’s shirt comes off in a tangled mess. Her pants follow just as quickly, leaving her bare to my touch.
I press my fingers to her neck, feeling the frantic beat of her pulse. I need to know she’s real and that I could hurt her, but don’t. Her hands claw at my back, slide over my shoulders, and up to my jaw, like she’s memorizing me.
She arches up, her legs wrapping around my waist until there’s no space between us, only heat, friction, need. Her hipbones press into me with every movement. I kiss along her collarbone, and she shudders, a laugh tearing free before she stops herself.
