"Move!" I'm screaming, already spurring forward. The bull is coming around for another pass, faster this time, and her horse is too close.
I'm driving between them, my cape already unfurling, the magenta fabric snapping in the air. “Toro! Eh, toro!" The bull's head swings toward me, momentarily confused by the new target, but only for a second before it charges me instead.
I pivot, and his horn catches my cape, ripping through the fabric, and the crowd gasps. I look up to find Asha is clear, repositioning near the far side, but her eyes are locked on me. Even through the dust and distance, I recognize the look. It’s sharp and unmistakable: fear.
The bull circles back to center, its head swinging to Asha, but I'm already moving, cape out, screaming at the top of my lungs, when he locks onto me instead. Two other picadors make their passes as he surges forward; they hit their mark, but it does nothing to slow his speed.
He comes at me full force. I plant my feet and hold the cape low, every muscle coiled. Time slows, and I can hear her voice, somewhere behind me, shouting my name. Then just as the sound of my own pounding heartbeat silences all the noise,the bull hits my cape like a freight train. I spin with it, and the momentum carries us both before it's past me.
I'm still standing, adrenaline coursing through my veins louder than ever when I find her. She's still mounted, and we're both somehow still alive when the trumpet sounds, signaling the end of the tercio. My legs feel like Jell-O, and I have to use every ounce of strength I have to put one foot in front of the other and get out of the arena.
The gates close behind us, shutting out the sun and the crowd, plunging us back into the relative cool of the darkened tunnel. We make it only a couple of feet before I stop her horse to help her down. Her boots hit the ground, and before I can process what's happening, her hand is fisted in my jacket, pulling me sideways into one of the holding stalls.
The door slams shut behind us, and suddenly, we're in near darkness, the only light streaming in through the thin slats of the weathered wood. My back hits the wall, and she's right there, palms flat against my chest, her face inches from mine.
"That was incredible," she breathes.
"Incrediblystupid." My voice is rough, loaded with stress and worry. "You could have been killed."
"But I wasn't." Her eyes are wild as she works to steady her breathing. "Now I get it. I get why you love it." She steps closer. "It's a total rush. Everything fades away when you're out there. I've never felt more alive."
Her hands slide up my chest, their heat serving as a reminder that she's still here, uninjured and whole. I revel in the reminder, and then her mouth is on mine. The kiss is hungry and desperate, charged with all the chaos coursing through my veins since I walked out of the bathroom and found she had left.
My hands find her waist, pulling her flush against me, and her gasp melts into mine. The relief of having her here, alive, solid, and real in my arms after thinking I might lose her crashesover me like a wave. I pull her closer, my fingers threading through her hair as I tilt her face up to mine, deepening the kiss until I can feel her breath become mine. She makes that sound in the back of her throat, the one that always undoes me, as her fingers start working at the buttons of my vest. And for a few seconds, everything disappears. All is right again.
The fight. The fear. The anger. It's all gone, and there's only her lips on mine, her body pressed against me, her heart racing against my chest, but then reality slams back into me. This is what she does. I catch her wrists and pull back, breathing hard, my lips still tingling from the kiss. She tries to follow, to close the distance again, but I hold her away.
"No." The word comes out sharp, and I see her flinch. "No, I'm not going to keep letting you do this."
"Do what?"
"This." I release her wrists and step back, putting space between us even though every cell in my body is screaming to close the distance. "You pull me in, and then when things get hard, you push me away. We have one perfect night together, and then you wake up and convince yourself I'm the enemy again."
"That's not?—"
"It is." My hands are shaking from adrenaline, from fear, from years of this cycle repeating itself. "You keep putting me in the same category as everyone who's hurt you before. Your ex, your father, your so-called friends, anyone who made you a promise and broke it. But I'm not them."
She opens her mouth to argue then closes it. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears.
"I have never lied to you," I continue, my voice cracking. "Not once. I told you I wouldn't fight as a matador, and I kept that promise. I put on this suit, and you immediately assumed theworst. You didn't ask. You didn't give me a chance to explain. You just decided I was like all the rest."
"I know." Her voice is small. "I know, and I'm sorry."
"Sorry isn't enough anymore." The words taste bitter. "I need you to trust me—actually trust me. Not this version where you trust me until you get scared and then run."
She moves toward me, reaching up to touch my face. "Please, I'm sorry. I was wrong. I..." She rises on her toes, trying to kiss me, but I catch her shoulders, stopping her just before our lips meet.
"I can't." The confession comes out broken. "I love you too much. It was never fake for me, Asha, not for one second. I never had any intention of letting you go, but I'm starting to think I have to. You'll survive losing me, but I won't survive you."
"You love me?" she whispers, as if she's unsure she truly heard those words.
"Watching you out there nearly killed me." I pull her closer, making her look at me, ensuring she hears every word. "I love you so much it terrifies me."
"Trigger…" her voice breaks, tears spilling over.
I step back, needing space to get this next part out, my shoulders hitting the rough wood of the stall wall. "But I can't keep doing this. I thought I could. I thought I could pretend until you finally realized what I've always felt in the depths of my soul…that we were inevitable." I drag my hand through my hair and tug hard. "I thought I could survive off your sharp tongue, knowing your words meant you felt something for me. I thought it would be enough, but after what happened out there…"
The words die in my throat, because watching that bull charge her all but stopped my heart. The memory rushes back, the massive black body closing the distance, her in white, the whole world narrowing to that single moment of terror. She takes a step toward me, but I hold up a hand, needing to finish.
