Octavia sleeps on my chest, her breathing slow and deep, completely unaware of the war raging in my head. She looks soft and fragile like this.
I can still taste her on my lips, she tastes exactly as I knew she would—dangerous, addictive, moreish.
The more she gave, the more I wanted, until wanting tipped into something deeper.
Need.
I am already an addict where she’s concerned. I need her morning, noon, and night.
I will have to convince her to let me sleep in her bed when we return to the academy, because now that I know how this feels, I won’t be able to go back to an empty one. But that is a concern for another time.
She let me touch her.
And fuck…
When she wakes, she might take what happened between us well, or she might spiral. I knew she wasn’t ready for more.
But she will be soon.
That’s the thing about my obsession with Octavia Bellanti. It isn’t about her body alone.
Yes, she’s exquisite, built for sin, made to be held, claimed, worshipped, but that isn’t what keeps me awake at night.
It’s the hurt in her eyes.
The damaged part.
Something terrible happened to her. Something deeper than the scars she lets the world see. I don’t know what it is yet, but I will find out, and when I do, I will annihilate whoever put that look in her eyes.
Because no one touches what’s mine.
I was so caught up in worshipping her that I didn’t notice the cuts on her skin. It was dark then, easy to miss. But now, as the morning light slips into the room, I see them clearly.
The sight hits hard, a blow to the gut… my girl, my precious, gorgeous girl, she is hurting herself.
I clench my jaw, my hands curling tight as tension builds through me. I am wound too tight, ready to snap.
She shifts against me and I take a deep breath.
She needs rest.
But we will talk about this.
I won’t stand by and let her hurt herself. The thought alone is enough to drive me mad.
Why, baby?
Fucking why?
I keep my eyes on her, unwilling to look away from the serene calm of her face.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand and I finally force myself to glance away. I lift it carefully, making sure I don’t disturb her.
The message is brief.
Useless, in fact.
My jaw tightens.
