She tensed slightly against me. "Tomorrow? After tonight?"
"Yeah." I tilted her chin up gently, making her meet my eyes in the dim light. "I know the timing's shit. But it's not a choice, baby. Work. I have to go."
She stared at me for a long moment, searching my face. "Your eyes are lying to me," she whispered.
My heart stopped.
"No," I said, voice firm, even as guilt twisted in my chest. "I just hate leaving you. Especially now."
Not a lie. Not entirely.
I hated lying to her. Hated it. But the truth would get her killed.
Silence. I could feel her processing, heart beating against my ribs.
"Will you come back soon?" Her voice was so small it cracked something in my chest.
"Yes." No hesitation. "I'm coming back soon, Alena. I promise. A few days, and I'm back. To you. To this."
Another pause. Then, softer: "Do you think this—us—would actually last?"
I looked down at her, this woman I'd loved for seventeen years, who'd just let me claim every inch of her, who was lying in my arms like she'd always belonged there.
Because she had.
A smile pulled at my lips—genuine, soft, the one I only ever gave her. And I thought: Yes. When I come back, I'm putting a ring on that finger. Making this permanent. Making sure you never doubt us again.
But I didn't say it. Not yet. Too much, too soon, even after everything we'd just done.
Instead, I kissed her forehead—slow, deliberate, reverent—and said: "Yes, babe. Yes. Also, now you don't have a choice."
I pressed two fingers in her pussy. She moaned and clenched around me. So, my babe wants more?
I pushed them in hard, feeling her stretch around me, wet and ready despite everything we'd just done. I started fucking her with my fingers as she trembled against me, her breath coming in short gasps. She was so wet I could feel her dripping down my wrist, coating my hand. Even though she was tight, I managed a third finger in, stretching her wider. She started to shake, her whole body trembling. My cock was hard again, aching.
"No... please Drogo... I can't— Fuck!"
I smiled, took my fingers out and brought them to her mouth. She licked them clean, tongue swirling around each digit, making my dick jerk. "Fuck..." I gasped. She swallowed, eyes locked on mine.
"See? You are mine now. We talked about it. You took the deal. No way out."
Then something in me turned darker. A feeling I never had before. I imagined her wanting to leave me and something cracked inside my chest—primal, possessive, terrifying.
I grabbed her chin—firm, commanding—and brought her face to mine. "No. Way. Out. Mine."
She smiled against my chest. Actually smiled. I felt it—the curve of her lips against my skin, the way her body relaxed completely into mine instead of tensing.
I locked her in my arms, caging her against me. My girl knew. Even though I grabbed her chin hard, she knew I would never hurt her. Never squeeze. In a way, I was hers completely. If she ordered me dead, I would pull the trigger with a smile. And it would be my honor.
She was safe with me. Always.
I held her close, breathing her in—smoke and vanilla and us. My fingers traced patterns on her spine, soothing, claiming, promising.
She was already drifting, her breathing evening out, body going soft and heavy against mine.
My hand slid down to rest on her belly—flat, warm, soft. I wondered if my come was still inside her. If she could feel it. If part of me was already taking root.
The thought should've terrified me. Instead, it felt right.
