He meets my eyes. “For two years.”
“For two years. Hoping. Hating myself for hoping because you were healing somewhere and I was sitting in my apartment wanting something I—” He clears his throat. “Something I convinced myself I had no right to want. Because every time Sebastian invited me into that bed, I told myself it was just physical for you. That I was reading into things that weren’t there.”
I whisper, “You weren’t reading into things.”
He goes completely still on his stool. “What?” His voice is barely a sound.
“You weren’t reading into things, Nico. It wasn’t just physical for me. It was neverjustphysical.”
His composure cracks. The steadiness he’s worn every moment I’ve known him all fractures across his face in real time. “Will.” My name comes out of him broken, the four letters carrying five years of ache. “Will, I thought—for years I thought—”
“I know what you thought.” My voice shakes as my whole body trembles, my hands vibrating against my knees. “You thought I chose Sebastian because I wanted him. You thought those nights were just sex. And I let you believe that because I—”
Air catches in my chest. The words are right there, crowding against the back of my teeth, pressing to get out. My throat burns with them.
“I asked Sebastian if—”
Nicholas goes perfectly still. “If?” he whispers.
“I asked him if you could—” My throat closes. The taste of copper floods my mouth. Sebastian’s face flares behind my eyes, warmth draining between breaths, that flat, dead look as he saidhe is not your Alpha. “I can’t. Fuck, I can’t get it out.”
He slides off his stool. In one step he crosses the distance between us, his hands finding my face, palms warm against my jaw. His thumbs press against my cheekbones where tears are already spilling. He’s close enough that his scent obliterates everything else—amber filling my lungs so completely there’s no room for Sebastian’s cold metal scent, no room for the copper taste, no room for anything except Nicholas Cavallero’s hands on my face in an empty club at 3 AM.
“You don’t have to finish it.” His voice comes out wrecked, thick with something I feel vibrating through his palms against my skin. “Will, you don’t have to say it.”
“I asked him if you could stay.” The words tear free in a gasp, ripping open the seal in my throat. “I asked him if we could be a pack, you and me and him. I wanted you to stay, and I told him, and he—”
Nico’s forehead drops against mine. A low, anguished sound leaves his chest, one I feel in my bones, five years in the making. His thumbs are still on my cheeks, catching my tears, and his breathing has gone ragged against my mouth.
“He said you were a guest.” My voice is barely functioning. I split the words into fractured pieces between breaths. “He said you weren’t my Alpha. He said I didn’t get to decide. And everything got worse after that, Nico. Everything got so much worse because he knew. He knew I wanted you, and he made me pay for it every single day until I ripped his fucking teeth out of my neck.”
Tears carve lines down his cheeks, and seeing them breaks something inside me I didn’t know was still intact. Nicholas Cavallero, this massive, patient, steady man who waited five years without complaint, is crying because he just learned I wanted him all along and I was punished for it. “I’m sorry.” His voice shatters. “Will, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. If I’d known, I would have—”
“You would have what? Fought Sebastian? He would have destroyed you.”
“I would have tried.” His thumbs trace my jaw. “I would have burned everything down to get you out.”
“I know.” My hand finds his wrist, resting over the one on my face. His pulse pounds beneath my fingers. “That’s why I never told you.”
Silence follows, full of our ragged breathing, both of us trying to hold ourselves together while the other watches. His forehead stays pressed against mine. His scent thickens, the amber deepening into something richer, the warmth wrapping us in the dark.
My hand moves from his wrist to his jaw, his stubble rough against my palm. His breath catches when my thumb traces the line of his lower lip.
“Nico.”
“Yeah.”
I step closer, needing more than just his touch and press my lips to his. This kiss isn’t anything like the one from before, where he yanked me in and I fought back on pure muscle memory. This time it’s slow. In the dark, my lips find his, my hand sliding up to cup his jaw and guide him. When his mouth meets mine, it’s so gentle my chest tightens. He kisses me like he used to touch me in Sebastian’s bed, as if I could shatter under too much pressure, each movement like he’s worshipping me.
My fingers thread through his curls, softer now and shorter than I remember. He groans, the sound trembling against my lips when I tug him closer. His hands cradle my face, tilting my head deeper into the kiss. His tongue brushes mine, and a raw, open moan escapes me, nothing like the controlled sounds I let my ex draw from me.
This is different. This is the mouth I’ve dreamed of all these years, pressing against mine with no Sebastian in sight, no mark of ownership, no audience, just Nicholas’ trembling hands on my cheeks and the warm glow of him filling every breath, my heart pounding so fiercely I taste it in my teeth.
When we break apart, we’re both breathless. My hand remains tangled in his hair. His eyes open, red-rimmed, lashes heavy with moisture, an expression on his face I can’t name, something beyond desire or patience, like a man rediscovering a lost piece of himself.
“Will.” His voice is barely a whisper. “Your neck.”
I instinctively inch toward my collar, that old reflex drilled into me for two years. But Nicholas’ hand is already there, fingers resting gently on the fabric, neither pulling nor pushing, only asking.
