Chapter 55 #2
“And I need to figure out what that means. Away from you.”
“Bullshit.” She stepped closer, fury blazing. “We’ve been through hell together, and now you’re just walking away?”
My tone turned colder than I’d intended. “A concept you’re rather familiar with.”
Her expression faltered for a second. Like that statement landed somewhere she wasn’t ready to show me.
“Caden.”
My name on her lips almost unraveled me. Soft, broken, threaded with something dangerously close to heartbreak. “Don’t do this.”
I clenched my jaw, forcing my focus onto the heavy bag I was no longer punching holes in. I could feel her stare drilling into the side of my face.
And all I could think about was how badly I wanted her.
Not gently. Not sweetly.
I wanted to slam her up against the door she came through, drag her onto the floor, and lose myself in her until everything else disappeared. I wanted to tear her apart and put her back together with my hands, my mouth, with every piece of me I was trying to keep buried.
But I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t let it show.
Because if I even looked at her for too long, I wasn’t coming back from it.
“This is insane,” she said, her voice rising again. “This is suicide, you know that, right? Taking out the United Chiefs just the two of you without translation… You’re not even bringing any backup with you?”
I shook my head, still not looking at her. “Can’t. There’s only one ring that can get us through the Layers. It’ll be hard enough fitting it around his and my fingers at the same time, let alone anyone else’s.”
“Caden.” There was a quiver she didn’t try to hide.
I didn’t respond.
“Will you look at me?”
No.
She stood there for a second, trembling with fury, then crossed the distance between us in three quick steps, closing the space like she belonged in it, which, in some cruel, permanent way, she did.
Now she was at my side, inches from me.
Close enough I could feel the heat coming off her skin. Close enough that her scent hit me, fresh cut pear and fucking lilies.
Motherfucker. Having her this close and not touching her was torture.
She stared at me like she didn’t recognize the person standing in front of her. “So what?” she said, the words cracking. “We’re just friends now?”
The hurt in her tone—fuck—it stopped me cold for half a second. Long enough to feel it, long enough for it to cut.
I didn’t want to care. But Emma had this unique talent to crawl under my skin and stay there.
“No, Emma,” I said, voice like gravel. “We’re not. What I feel for you… It sure as hell isn’t friendship.”
Her lips parted, then she looked at me, something sharp behind her expression.
“Fine,” she said, cold and final. “Have it your way. Whatever you want, Caden.”
Whatever I want?
My hands fisted at my sides. My whole body vibrated with the rage and heat I barely kept in check. Like any of this was about what I wanted?
She turned on her heel to leave—too close, reckless with it—and her arm grazed mine. Barely.
Skin against skin.
That was all it took.
A spark. A fuse lit. A line crossed without warning.
I snapped.
I slammed her back into the wall, hard enough that her breath left her in a gasp. My hand wrapped around her throat, pinning her in place. Her eyes widened, startled, but then that look…that fucking look of hers took over. Lust. Hunger.
She wanted this, she wanted me to break. She wanted me fucking feral for her.
And then my hand around her throat squeezed. Her breath hitched and her lids fluttered slightly.
“Do you feel this, Nightcrawler?” I murmured, “The way I control your breathing right now? The way I decide how much air flows into your lungs?”
My other hand trailed down her side, leaving a path of shivers in its wake, and I felt the way her body arched into my touch like she needed it to survive.
“How I’m the one in charge of your oxygen?” I dragged my fingers across her ribs, savoring the way she trembled.
I leaned in until my mouth brushed the shell of her ear. “That’s how it fucking feels when you walk into a room.”
I squeezed her throat even harder. “This is how it feels when you fucking look at me.”
And then I squeezed it almost all the way. “And this is what it fucking felt like when you walked away from us.”
I knew I had to be hurting her—anyone else would’ve clawed at my hand, fought for air, panicked—but she did the unthinkable.
She fucking moaned.
Low. Unapologetic. Like she wanted me to know what I was doing to her.
My control snapped so tight it felt like barbed wire inside me. My cock strained hard against my jeans, throbbing with the need to take her, right then, right there.
The brink of insanity had never tasted so fucking sweet.
I lowered myself until my mouth hovered right above hers, so close I could feel the next ragged hitch of her breath shudder against my lips, could feel the way her body strained toward mine like instinct alone was dragging her forward.
What came out was low and dark, every word measured, every syllable edged with a calm so lethal it barely counted as calm at all.
“You asked me to respect your choice and walk away,” I murmured, my grip still firm around her throat, our breaths tangling in the tiny space between us. “I am asking you now for the same fucking thing: respect my choice, Emma…and give me some fucking space to clear my head.”
I was practically shaking when I finally loosened my fingers and let her go, peeling myself away from something I was sure I wouldn’t survive losing.
She didn’t reply.
Didn’t reach for me.
Didn’t say a single word.
And neither did I.
Without another sound, or a backward glance, I turned and walked out of the room to pack for Cyclos.
No soft words of goodbye. No whispered promises of safety, or return.
Nothing friendly. Nothing caring.
Only distance.
Exactly what I said I needed. Exactly what would would tear me apart.
Had I known what would follow—what would happen to all of us—I would’ve chosen differently.
I would’ve told her I loved her more than anything. How she had breathed life back into me when I never thought that possible.
I would’ve made her see that no matter what she did, she would always be magnificent. And not just because of her powers.
And I would’ve told her whatever choice she made, she would always and forever be mine.
But that’s the thing about regret: it feeds on what you can’t undo.
And it’s always fucking pointless.