Page 115 of Two Sides of Sin

I leaned in until our breath was a single, shared heat, my hand sliding from her jaw to wrap firmly around the back of her neck, anchoring her to my claim.

“Tell me there isn’t a single inch of you—not a memory, not a dream, not a whispered prayer—that doesn’t have my name carved into it.”

She was a complete mess now, her back arching against the table as she looked at me with those eyes that were no longer the ocean on a beautiful summer's day, but a raging storm I had created.

“Everything,” she choked out, her voice breaking. “Every thought, every breath… it’s all yours. I’m yours, Julian. Please. Please…just let me come.”

I leaned down, my teeth grazing the shell of her ear as I gave her the release she’d been starving for. "Come for me, Sage. Now."

She shattered immediately, a beautiful, high-pitched cry of pleasure echoing into the high ceilings of the estate. The electric tension coiled tighter and tighter, the pleasure building into an agonising, suffocating peak as the final waves of her climax ripped through her. She moved faster, her breath coming in ragged, beautiful sobs, losing herself in the rhythm of our bodies. I held her jaw, grounding her to me, absorbing every single sound she made as if it were oxygen.

When she finally collapsed against my chest, I buried my face in her neck, my own control breaking as I followed her over the edge, pouring every ounce of my century-long devotion into her.

We stayed like that for a long time, the quiet music still playing in the background, our chests heaving together in the aftermath of the collision. I wrapped my arms securely around her bare back, holding her tighter than I had ever held anything in my existence, vowing silently to the dark forest outside that Cain would never touch her again.

But as the adrenaline ebbed, the shirt I’d discarded earlier left me exposed. Sage shifted in my arms, her gaze dropping to the ink just above my heart. Her breath hitched, a small, curious sound that made my entire body lock.

“Julian?” she whispered. Her fingers reached out, cool and delicate, tracing the raised lines of the carved tattoo I had been so careful to hide from her. “Who… who is June?”

Instant panic, flooded my veins. My heart hammered against the very name she was touching, the beat frantic and betraying.

“I—it’s…” I started, the words dying in my throat. I was the one who always had the answers, the one who curated her world yet I was stumbling over a broken truth.

“It was… a promise. From a long time ago. Someone I… I couldn’t save.”

The lie felt like poison on my lips. I looked down, watching her iris—that turbulent winter sea—search mine for a truth I wasn’t ready to give. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, as I scrambled to find a way to bury the secret deeper.

When the quiet became too loud, Sage let out a soft, tired exhale. She withdrew her hand, the loss of her touch feeling like a brand.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, as I scrambled to find a way to bury the secret deeper. I watched her closely, and for a split second, I saw it—a sharp, unmistakable flicker of jealousy ignited in the depths of her eyes.

A dark amused laugh nearly tore from my throat.

She thought there was someone else. She was looking at her own name, etched into the skin above my heart, and mourning a ghost she didn’t realise she was. My little angel thought she was competing with a memory, never dreaming that she is the only woman who has ever had the power to mark me.

Mind, body, and soul. She was the beginning and the end of my world, yet here she was, retreating from a memory of herself.

“It’s fine,” she said softly, her voice laced with a sudden melancholy. “You don’t need to talk about it now. It’s been a long day. Let’s just go to bed.”

She turned away, but I stayed frozen for a heartbeat longer. I had survived the collision, but the look in her eyes told me the wreckage was only just beginning.

Chapter 63

Sage

Iwoke up to the comforting feeling of Julian’s heart beating against my back.

The living room was dark now, save for the pale moonlight filtering in through the massive glass windows. We were still tangled together on the oversized lounge, exposed and bare beneath a throw blanket he must have pulled over us before he fell asleep.

One of his arms was thrown securely across my waist, pinning me flush against the solid, scarred wall of his chest. He was dead to the world, his breathing deep and even in the quiet of the estate. I wanted nothing more than to just lie there and soak in the unimaginable safety of his embrace, but my body had other, far more urgent plans.

My bladder was painfully screaming at me.

I carefully began the process of extracting myself from his grip. I held my breath, sliding my arm out from under his heavy torso and gently lifting his thick forearm off my waist. He let out a low, gravelly grumble in his sleep, his brow furrowing slightly, but his grip loosened just enough for me to slip away.

I left the warmth of the blanket, shivering slightly as the cool mountain air kissed my bare skin. I grabbed his discarded black t-shirt from the floor, pulling it over my head and sprinted down the dark hallway in search of the bathroom.

I found one a few doors down—a sleek, sprawling expanse of dark slate and glass.