I'm taking her away. Somewhere I can breathe. Somewhere I can figure out how to be the man she deserves instead of the monster I've become.
***
The villa looks like a dream in the moonlight—all white stone and ocean breeze. We arrive near midnight, and the staff has vanished as instructed, leaving only soft lights and silence.
Eve steps onto the terrace and gasps. The ocean stretches endlessly before us, silver under the moon, the sound of waves a rhythmic whisper.
"It's beautiful," she murmurs.
"I bought it years ago," I say, joining her. "I needed somewhere that didn't remind me of..."
I trail off, but she understands. Of course she does.
She turns to me, her hair catching in the sea breeze, and I'm struck again by how beautiful she is. Not just physically, though she is. But the strength in her eyes. The compassion that shouldn't exist after everything I've put her through.
When I kiss her, it's different from every time before.
No domination. No calculated seduction. Just desperate, honest need.
She responds with equal intensity, her hands threading through my hair as I back her toward the wall. But even in my urgency, I'm gentle. Reverent.
I break the kiss long enough to look into her eyes. "I need you to understand something."
"What?"
"This isn't about control anymore. It's about love. Real, terrifying, all-consuming love." My voice cracks. "You have all the power now, Eve. You could destroy me with a word."
"I know," she whispers. "And I choose not to."
The relief that floods through me is so intense it's almost painful. I kiss her again, pouring everything I can't say into the contact—my fear, my love, my desperate gratitude.
She grabs my face, forcing me to look at her. "You're my monster, Nathan Hale. And I'm keeping you."
I break.
My mouth crashes into hers, desperate and claiming. She kisses me back with equal hunger, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
We make our way upstairs to the master bedroom, shedding clothes as we go. The moonlight streams through the windows, painting her skin silver.
I lay her down on the bed with a tenderness that feels foreign to me. All my previous encounters were about power, about proving something. But this—this is about connection.
"I need you," she says simply.
I close the distance between us. My hands frame her face, thumbs stroking her cheekbones. "You have me. Always."
I kiss her slowly this time. Thoroughly. Pouring every apology, every promise, every desperate hope into the slide of my lips against hers.
She melts into me, her body soft and pliant. When I finally pull back, her eyes are dark with desire.
"Nathan," she breathes. "Please."
That word—*please*—unravels me completely.
I lift her, and she wraps her legs around my waist automatically. Her dress rides up, and I can feel the heat of her even through my clothes.
The bed is three steps away. Might as well be miles.
I press her against the wall instead, my mouth finding her throat. She gasps, her head falling back.
