My hands follow, slower, reverent, like I’m relearning her, like I need to make sure she’s real. She shivers beneath my touch, but doesn’t pull away. Never pulling away. I lower my forehead to hers, our breaths mingling, the space between us charged with everything we never said. “You felt it,” I murmur, my voice low, rough with something deeper than desire. “Even when you didn’t understand it, you felt me.” Her lips part slightly, breath unsteady. “I was always yours,” I continue, quieter now, but more dangerous. More certain. My hand slides to the back of her neck, holding her there; not forceful, but unyielding. Grounding. Claiming. “You can run,” I whisper against her lips. “You can fight it. Hate me. Blame me.” My eyes lock onto hers, dark and unwavering. “But it won’t change what you are to me.” My thumb brushes along her jaw, slow, deliberate. “What you’ve always been.”
Her breath catches as I lean closer, my voice dropping to something almost feral, barely restrained.
“Mine.” The word isn’t loud. It doesn’t need to be. It settles into the space between us like something ancient. Unbreakable. My lips brush hers; not a kiss yet, just the promise of one. The tension. The inevitability.
“And I’m done letting you go.” This time, when I kiss her, it isn’t hesitant. It isn’t careful. It’s everything I’ve held back every year, every moment, every sacrifice poured into something that feels dangerously close to forever. Her hands clutch at me like she’s just realised the same thing. Like she understands now. Not just what we are. But what we’ve always been. Bound. Chosen. Inevitable.
My hands move over her like I’m relearning something sacred, something I almost lost. Every curve, every breath, every small sound that falls from her lips pulls something darker, deeper out of me. She feels like fire beneath my hands. Alive. Mine. Her soft moans break against my mouth as I kiss her again and again, like I can’t get enough, like I never will. I lift her, needing her closer and closer still, and she wraps herself around me without hesitation, as she belongs there. Like she always has.
A low, desperate sound leaves my chest at the contact. This isn’t just hunger. It’s something far more dangerous. Far more permanent. My grip tightens as I press her back, her body arching into mine, as I fill her, feel her body stretching around me. Her head tips back in surrender, baring her throat to me. An offering. A trust that nearly undoes me. “Feed from me,” she breathes. The words hit like a spark to gasoline. Desire and blood lust collide, twisting together into something explosive; something I can’t separate anymore. Something I don’t want to separate. I hesitate for the briefest second, feeling it. That pull. That bond is waiting just beneath the surface. Ready. Waiting for me to take it. To take her.My mouth finds her neck; not rushed, not careless, but deliberate. Reverent. Claiming. She gasps, her walls tightening around my cock buried deep inside her as Igive in, as instinct takes over, as need finally wins. Her reaction shatters whatever restraint I had left. Everything inside me surges, dark, possessive, and absolute. She isn’t just someone I want. She never has been. She’s the one I was meant to find. The one I was meant to keep.
My hands tighten at her waist, holding her like she might slip away if I don’t anchor her here, if I don’t bind her to me in a way nothing can break. I feel it then. The bond. The thread. That invisible tether stretching between us, waiting for me to pull it tight. To seal it. To make it unbreakable. I pull back just enough to look at her. Her eyes flutter open, burning desire colliding with mine. “I’m going to mark you,” I murmur, my voice low, rough with something ancient and final. “Not just here, not just now.” My hand lifts, brushing her cheek as I thrust up, her plump lips parting. “I’m binding you to me. To what I am. To what I’ll always be. To what I have always been.” My gaze locks onto hers, leaving no room for doubt. No room for escape. “Yours.” I thrust again, feeling her tighten. “To what you are to me, to what you’ve always been to me.” I thrust again. “Mine,” I growl possessively. “For eternity.”
I pause just enough to give her the choice; the last one she’ll ever have without me. “This is it, Firefly,” I whisper. “Your last chance to walk away.” The air between us tightens, charged, waiting. Her breathing is uneven, her body trembling; not with fear, but with something deeper. Stronger. Her eyes darken, that vivid emerald burning brighter, fiercer.
“Mark me,” she breathes. No hesitation. “Make me yours.” Something inside mesnaps.Not breaking. Becoming. My mouth crashes to hers; not gentle, not restrained. Final. Claiming. A promise. A vow. Everything I am, everything I’ve fought, everything I nearly lost—everything we nearly lost—pours into this moment. Into her. The bond ignites. Not soft. Not subtle. It burns. Through me. Through her. Through whatever existsbeyond. I feel it wrap around us tight, unyielding, pulling us together in a way nothing will ever undo. Not time. Not death.
Her nails dig into my flesh, her green eyes flare, my name tearing from her lips like a prayer, like she finally understands what we are now. What we’ve become. What we should have always been. The pleasure becomes too much, her back arching, her head rolling back on her shoulders. My climax joins hers; a deep, low, feral growl roars from my lips as pleasure consumes every part of me. “Silas,” she breathes on a whisper, her body shuddering against mine. And when it settles, the world finally stills around us. There’s no space left between us that isn’t shared. No part of her isn’t tied to me. No part of me that isn’t bound to her. Not just in this undead life. But in every one that comes after. Mine. Forever.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
LILITH
I shovethe last of my clothes into the bag, forcing the zipper closed with more effort than necessary. For a second, I stand there, listening, like the room might say something. Like it might ask me to stay. It doesn’t. Slowly, I turn, letting my gaze drift over everything: every corner, every surface, every quiet piece of a life I built here. Making sure I haven’t forgotten anything.
Or maybe making sure I have. It’s been a week since Silas woke up; a week since everything fell apart. Since it burned, broke, and reshaped into something I’m still not sure I understand. Lucian gave the club time. Seven days to breathe, to recover, to bury what needed burying. But a week isn’t enough. Not for what we went through. Not for what we lost. Still, the world doesn’t stop. It never does. The club moves on. It has to. Shipments, deals, and runs that stretch for days. Life continues whether you’re ready for it or not.
My fingers brush against the edge of the dresser, pausing when I spot the photo. I pick it up before I can stop myself: me and my family. That stupid RV trip we thought would be fun. My sister had been sick most of the way, complaining, whining,swearing she’d never travel again. We’d argued, laughed, and nearly killed each other in that cramped space. It had been chaos. It had been perfect. A small, broken sound escapes me as I stare at it, at the version of me that still existed back then. I swallow hard and set it back down. There’s no room for it in my bag. No space for pieces of a life that doesn’t exist anymore. I don’t need it anyway. The memories are carved into me so deeply that they will last a lifetime.
Turning away feels harder than it should, but I do it anyway. I leave the room without looking back again. Down the stairs, out the back door. The lock clicks into place behind me, loud in the quiet nighttime air. I walk around to the front, my steps slower now, heavier. And then I stop. I just… stop. Tilting my head back, I take in the bar. The place that became my home. The place that changed everything. The place that took everything. My chest tightens. For a moment, I close my eyes, letting it all press in: the laughter, the fights, the nights that blurred into something unforgettable. Him. Always him. A breath leaves me unsteady. Then I force my eyes open. Force my body to turn. To walk away. The keys sit heavy in my hand as I slide them into an envelope, sealing it shut with fingers that don’t feel entirely steady. I don’t hesitate when I push it through the real estate agent’s letterbox. Just like that, it’s done.
I adjust the straps of my backpack, pulling them tighter against my shoulders, grounding myself in its weight. Everything I need. Everything I’m taking with me.
For a moment, I linger at the edge of the street, staring out at the town that held my entire life. Every version of me exists here. Every mistake. Every memory, every piece I can’t take with me. My jaw tightens. Then, before I can second-guess it, I turn. And I walk. Not looking back again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
SILAS
We ride into the compound,relief flooding through me. I wanted nothing more than to be back here with Lilith. I hated leaving her; hated being away from her. I worried she might leave; I’d catch her staring off into the distance, deep in thought. When I asked her what was on her mind, she’d do her best to give me a reassuring smile and say it was nothing. She was a terrible liar. She forgot that for years I watched her, learned everything about her. With the threat over, the worry that I would wake gone, we were left with only peace, and when it’s quiet, that’s when you’re faced with the reality of what happened. I remember how she was after her family died, how she dealt with that loss. If she hadn’t been forced to stay here, she would have run.
As I make my way into my room—ignoring my brothers’ demands for a party with fang bangers—I open the door to an empty room. I move to the bathroom to check she’s not in there, even though I can feel she isn’t. I run my fingers through my hair, tugging at the ends. I should never have left her. It was too soon, too much for her to deal with in such a short time.
I turn on my heel and run through the club past my brothers. “Where are you going?” Lucian yells after me. I ignore him and jump on my bike. Lucian comes out a second later, concern in his eyes. “What is it?” he presses.
“She’s gone,” I say on a rushed breath, pulling hard on the throttle, turning the bike around, my back tire skidding in the dirt, sending dust clouds behind me. Fear courses through me as I ride, pushing my bike to its highest speed. If she had asked for time, for space, I would have given it to her. But now, I don’t know where she is, if she’s okay. Her bar is up ahead. I skid to a stop in front of it, all the lights out. I press my face up against the glass, peering through, trying to see if I can spot her. Nothing.
I turn in a circle, looking down the streets; empty, asleep. The silence consumes me, mocking me with her absence. A breeze rustles the trees on the edge of the forest, catching my attention. On pure instinct, I run, taking off into the forest, pushing past branches and bushes. The crumpled bird-watching shed comes into view up ahead. A silhouette of someone next to it. As I get closer, my panic eases. I feel her, sense her. Lilith. Her head whips around to look at me. “Silas?” she frowns in confusion.
I grab her in my arms, holding her tight against me, breathing in her scent. Pulling back slightly, I check her over, her face cupped in my hands. “I thought you’d gone,” I rasp, the fear making it hard to speak.
Her face softens. “I went to the bar to get the last of my stuff.” She gestures to the huge, overloaded backpack on the ground by her feet.
I sigh, relieved, resting my temple against hers, my eyes squeezed shut as I quash the anxiety building inside me. She softly clasps her hands over mine, moving them from her face, then presses a kiss into my palm. “I posted the keys in therealtor’s,” she says. “And I wanted to just stand here for a moment. Kind of like saying goodbye.” She shrugs.
She releases her hold on my hands, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. My hands cup her face again, unable to stop touching her, my thumb lightly caressing her cheek. I don’t say I would have come with her; she knows I would have. She wanted to do it alone. She needed to do it alone.
“You ready to go home?” I ask her. Home—for now—is the club. It’s everything but a normal home, but it’s ours.
