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She swallows hard, the delicate line of her throat bobbing. Fuck. She’s about to cry.

“It’s going to be okay, ” meaning the words as I say them.

“You don’t know that,” she whispers.

“I do,” I tell her, sounding braver than I feel. “We have no other choice. We took an oath, all three of us, to the King and to one another.”

I run my fingers over her cheek and down the soft column of her throat. The collar is gone–cut off and left in the dirt. She rocks her hips against me, a tiny movement, and I clamp my hand down on her thigh, holding her still. “Settle down.”

She looks at me in the dark, a glint of light catching in her eye. “Damon, please.”

If we had more room, I’d let her curl up into my lap and suck my cock. Give her a chance to soothe away the fears. But we’re so close, bodies almost fused together. I think about what she said—anchored. I tilt her chin up with my fingers and say, “Tell me what you want.”

She leans in and clamps her teeth down on my bottom lip, tugging at the piercing. The tiny act of violence sends a jolt to my dick. “I need to feel something. Something to fill this empty pit inside of me.”

I never thought this girl would beg for me like this–to want me–but it’s right. She’s right. I can give her what she needs. The closet is ridiculously tight, but I make it work. I lift her just enough to free my cock from my jeans, already hard and aching. I push aside her flimsy skirt and panties, sliding my fingers between her legs. It takes a little coaxing, but soon she’s slippery and hot, her body desperate for connection. I guide her over me and pull her down until I’m buried to the hilt inside her tight heat.

“Fuck,” I groan, the word rough in the small space. There’s barely room to breathe, much less move, but she does the work, rocking back and forth, dragging her slick pussy along my cock in desperate little strokes. “That good?”

She nods frantically, kissing me again, her hands grabbing fistfuls of my shirt. Her fingers push underneath, finding the piercings in my nipples. She tugs hard, sending another surge of pleasure straight to my cock. This isn’t how she normally is. Usually, she’s more passive, letting me explore her—letting me use her. But right now, Arianette, who’s seemed half-asleep since we got here, is taking what she needs.

It’s fucking incredible.

Her hands yank at the oversized T-shirt she’s wearing, pulling it over her head and tossing it aside. I close my palms around her pretty tits, squeezing them together, feeling the cool metal of the rings I gave her for Solstice. When I tug gently on the hoops, she squirms and exhales shakily against my neck.

Everything about this moment is too tight, too small–too much—but it’s exactly what we both need. For the first time in days, I feel moored, grounded in her.

I grip her hips and help her move, guiding her faster, deeper. The confined space forces us close, every rock of her body pressing her clit against me, every breath shared in the dark. Her walls flutter around my cock as she gets closer, her moans turning soft and broken. I slide one hand between us, rubbing tight circles over her swollen clit while she rides me.

“Damon—oh god,” she gasps, her head falling to my shoulder.

“Come for me, Doll Baby,” I rasp, thrusting up as much as the tight quarters allow. “Let go.”

She shatters first, her pussy clenching hard around me, a choked cry muffled against my neck. The feel of her pulsing, the wet heat of her release, drags me over the edge right behind her. I bury myself deep and come with a low groan, filling her in thick pulses while we cling to each other in the darkness.

We stay like that, breathing heavy, hearts hammering in sync. My arms are wrapped tight around her bare back, her face tucked into the crook of my neck. The thin sliver of light still cuts across us, but the rest of the world—the danger, the Kings, the Guardian, all of Forsyth—feels locked outside those closet doors.

Right now there’s only this. Only her. Us.

And for a few stolen minutes, we bask in it.

I see him through the glass first—his reflection cutting across the window before his actual body hits the hallway. By the time Hunter reaches the room, I’m already moving, stepping outside and pulling the door mostly shut behind me so Arianette doesn’t hear any of this.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, keeping my voice low and sharp. “I told you in my text, I’m not going.”

“I know you did,” Hunter says. “And I told you that you don’t have a fucking choice.”

Jesus. “No, what’s not a choice is me leaving her. She’s not in a place where she can be by herself. Someone has to watch her, and there’s no one out there we can trust, that’s for damn sure.” I exhale. “So you go to the meeting and I’ll stay here.”

He scratches the back of his neck, a tell that means he’s about to say something I’m not going to like. “Yeah… about that. I think there is someone we can trust.”

“Graves—” I start, already gearing up for the argument.

“Not Graves. I just saw him at the house. He’s getting some legal paperwork together, just in case we need it.”

That makes me pause for half a second and I narrow my eyes. “Then who?”

The elevator dings.