He lowered his hand slowly, our lips brushing when he did. We both shuddered at the feel of it.
I ran my thumb over his cheek.
Then I pressed my mouth to his.
I was…so tired, and kissing Rafe felt like putting on a balm. It’d been so long since I’d chosen to kiss anyone, and I was already sore from Room 82, but I didn’t want to miss my chance to be with him. I’d ignored Thorne and Kane’s remarks, but I knew they were right.
Rafe would’ve done anything to keep me out of that room, even if it mean leaving us all behind. I would've too if it meant saving them.
He didn’t kiss me back at first. He let me sink toward him, his hands hovering over me like he was afraid one touch would take me past that threshold toward death.
I eased his fingers toward places I could bear—the collarbone, the hollow of my throat, the slope of my ribs. He answered with taps, and I answered with squeezes and small, guiding shifts. The dark made everything exaggerated, the press of his breath against the corner of my mouth; the small catch in his throat when he accidentally grazed a bruise and I flinched; the way his grey uniform shifted under my palm, a thin barrier I was desperate to remove.
I fumbled at the collar, fingers seeking seams in the dark. He lifted an arm and let me slip the sleeve past his elbow. He mirrored me on the other side without a sound. The shirt came away like a quiet surrender and I let my fingers hook into his waistband, tugging him free, not caring that wounds tore open along my skin from the effort. Any amount of bleeding was worth feeling him, choosing him,lovinghim.
I tried to bring my leg up, to hook it at his waist, but I was too weak, my muscles exhausted. But he understood. Even in the dark, he was able to read me,nudging my legs open and gently pulling my thigh up over his hip. He kept his hand there, the two of us with our foreheads pressed together. Then he slowly slid his calloused palm down my thigh, his breath hitching when I arched toward him, feeling the head of him tipping lightly toward my center.
He hesitated for a beat, the kind of slow that asks permission without words. Two taps, quick and careful, into the hollow of my palm. I closed my fingers around his and held them there.Yes.
The first inch was slow, a warm, tentative press. I felt the stretch, the sharp claim, and then the settling as he paused and waited for my answer. I nodded, my lips brushing his and my breath spilling against his tongue. His hand curled into my hair and he kissed me fully then, demanding andeverything.
When he slid the next small distance, heat spread then folded into a dull ache that eased as he found an angle that fit. His hands moved back to my hips, thumbs rubbing little circles as if counting out apologies. He kept his thrusts minimal—a slide and then stillness, a check for pain, a check for permission. He learned which shifts made me lock up and whichopened me further to him. I ground against him when he did, encouraging, biting my tongue to keep my moans silent and to not wake Thorne and Kane. When he quickened, it was only by degrees, never by force; when he slowed it was with the same deliberate care.
I was a girl worth billions for sex, but in that moment I felt like virgin. My head blanked. Every horrible memory just…faded. I pretended I was just Arden. A nineteen year old woman in bed with her boyfriend, learning her body for the very first time. Even sex with Thorne had never been as careful as sex with Rafe. He was impossibly delicate, the kind of sure and thoughtful someone could only be if they had played that exact scenario out in their head millions of times.
Somewhere between the quiet and the ache, the world narrowed to the small geography of our bodies. I felt every line of him press and draw back, the way his breath hit my mouth, the small hitch he couldn’t hide when he worried he’d hurt me. I kissed him then—not a demand but an answer that I was okay as long as he was okay—and he kissed me back. Everything in me unknotted. I let a small moan loose, pressing it into his mouth so the vibration hit his lips. Heresponded by sinking a fraction deeper and holding, hand flat across my lower back, steady, as if bracing me against everything that wanted to tear us apart.
An orgasm built inside me, clawing from a deep place. Sweat beaded our foreheads, slicked our bodies, and I urged him deeper, harder, my thighs shaking. Heat coiled low, tightening, a fierce, climbing thing that shoved through my ribs. My breath hitched, then came faster. I felt the pull like a tide, heard the hollow rush behind my ears, and then everything let go.
The orgasm ripped through me sudden, all-consuming, leaving me raw and trembling. He rode it out with me, filling me with his own release. He folded forward with a low groan, his mouth pressing against my sternum to muffle the sound. His face twitched with pain from allowing the sound to escape, and I gently massaged along the scar on his throat, letting him melt further toward me.
Once wasn’t enough for us. We were hungry to feel safe, and it was addicting to finally feel it. He pressed himself into me, his mouth finding mine with urgency, granting me hard kisses that tasted of freedom. Even when we could barely move, our bodies done, we stayed tucked together, Rafe filling me. I would fall asleep with my legs around him, and I didn’t care if Thorne and Kane found us that way in the morning. Rafe remained. Healwaysremained.
Tears wet on my cheeks, I brought his hand to my mouth. “I love you,” I whispered, my voice cracking. It was terrifying to say something like that in hell, but I didn’t want to further damn myself by letting him think I didn’t. I loved Rafe Creed, I think, since the very first second I saw him, but it was impossible to let myself feel something I knew would eventually kill me. With Thorne, it was survival. The kind of free falling desire every teenager finds at least once. With Rafe, it was inevitable. The kind of love that consumed and strangled, never letting go.
Rafe froze when I spoke the words. His cheeks were as wet as mine when I cupped his face and kissed him gently. "I love you," I repeated, softer and aching, lettingthe words breathe between his lips with every press. He nodded in the dark, tapped his finger four times against the hollow of my throat, in time with my heartbeat.
I love you, too, the taps told me. He repeated it across my skin. Four kisses to my face—two beneath each eye to catch my tears. Four squeezes to my wrist, pinching it between his forefinger and thumb as he placed my arm up and around the back of his neck. Then three—I love you—strokes of his tongue when his mouth took mine. It was an all-consuming the kiss, the kind of thing movies would get a close up shot of, our hands bracing each other's faces, and our sobs echoed across our tongues. I came again, squeezing around his length, and Rafe pressed a firm kiss to my dented-in temple.
I don’t even know how to say what came next, so I’ll keep it simple.
When I didn’t get my period, we pretended it was ours, the thing growing inside me.
Rafe and I had no way of knowing if it really was, but after we first gave in to each other, there wasn’t a night I went without being in his arms, his mouth on my body. The week went by, we passed the drills, and Creed had several bids from Buyers—all of them triple what we’d been valued at as Viktor’s children. Rafe tried to protect me, jumped in front of me if a commander tried to kick me in the stomach or throw me into The Tank to drown for his amusement.
But I knew the thing inside me was as dead as I was.
I remember Thorne and Kane’s faces when they realized why Rafe kept taking my beatings. For the first time in a long time, they hugged me when we got back to our cell, and when they pulled back, Thorne was crying. He took my face between shaking hands and kissed my forehead before whispering softly, breaking me further, “In another life, I bet anything you created was a wildfire, Arden Creed.”
It happened the day after that.
Soldiers dragged me from Rafe’s arms to Dr. Davidson. Pregnant one minute, a corpse again by the second. Halden had her remove my ovaries, sedating me only enough to keep me from going intoshock—a punishment I guess for trying to create life among death. I felt every pull, tug, and dull stab of something sharp and medical, and I watched myself bleed everywhere, watcheditbleed everywhere. I'd been far enough along that it couldn't have been Rafe's, and honestly, it was shocking it was only the first time. Halden never provided me with pills like Viktor always had, and maybe that was on purpose. He wanted the day to come when he could take more from me after I thought there was nothing left that he could.
I don’t remember how I got back to the cell. I must’ve passed out, because I awoke to Thorne. He was sitting on the edge of my cot. I immediately searched for Rafe, but he wasn’t there. Thorne pressed a firm hand to my shoulder, making me lie back down.
“They took him and Kane to see a few of the Buyers and discuss contracts with Halden,” he explained.
My gaze fell to my bandaged stomach, the top of my grey uniform folded and pinned up just below my breasts. My chin trembled, and Thorne released a shallow, sad breath.
