Chapter 18 #2
He doesn’t answer. Because we both know the truth.
When his hands finally touch me, they tremble. His fingers trail over my waist, up my spine, then fist the back of my shirt as he pulls me forward into his lap.
Our mouths meet with a desperation we’ve been choking on for days.
This isn’t like the other times.
This is deeper. Slower. More savage in its softness.
His tongue slides against mine with reverence, like he’s memorizing every taste. His hands explore with reverent greed, pulling the shirt over my head, exposing me to firelight and his gaze.
“You’re still mine,” he growls, voice hoarse. “Even if it kills me.”
I straddle him. Cup his jaw. “Then show me.”
He lifts me effortlessly and lays me on the rug in front of the fire.
And he does.
He shows me how much he needs me—with every kiss, every thrust, every command whispered into my open mouth. He doesn’t fuck me like a dominant staking a claim.
He makes love to me like a man unraveling.
When I come, it’s with his name breaking on my lips and his body buried deep inside mine. My tears wet his cheek as he leans his forehead against mine.
“I want more than thirty days,” he whispers.
His hands clench on my hips.
“Then take it,” I say. “Take everything.”
We lie there, tangled in sweat and silence.
And for a moment, it feels like we’re not running anymore.
Just surviving. Together.
Dante
She’s asleep on my chest, her favorite place to be with one arm slung across my stomach. Her breath warm against my skin. Her leg hooks over mine like she never plans to let go.
Like this… us … was always inevitable.
I smile in the dark as my palm moves slowly over the bare skin of her back. Tracing the soft curve of her spine.
Savoring the weight of her, the silence between us, the fire crackling low and golden nearby.
I’ve never known this kind of peace. Not once.
Not in the years before the Syndicate. Not in the years after.
And certainly not since Ironveil began swallowing every piece of me I didn’t already burn.
But she’s here. Curled against me like I’m her home. And for the first time in my goddamn life, I think about what it might mean to be someone else.
Not the man with all the secrets. Not the monster hunting bigger monsters with a target on his back. Just… hers.
Dahlia shifts, breath catching. Then her fingers curl into my side like a kitten clawing for reassurance. She doesn’t open her eyes, doesn’t speak. But she feels me.
The knowing in her touch undoes me.
I dip my chin and kiss the top of her head. Despite her shower earlier, she smells like sweat and ash and me.
"You're not sleeping," she murmurs.
"Neither are you."
Her lashes flutter open. Her eyes are dark and storm-lit in the low light. “Too much in my head.”
“About what?”
A pause.
“You. Me. This.”
My chest tightens. The chains rattle. “Tell me,” I say quietly. “Even if it’s fucked up.” Even if it gets you shackled and bound to me while I figure out ways to steal the heart that’s not yet mine.
She props herself up on her elbow, fingers trailing down my chest. “It’s not fucked up. That’s the problem.”
My brows lift.
“I thought you’d be a one-night mistake,” she says, a crooked smile tugging at her lips. “Or a thirty-day one. That I’d pay up, gather info, get the hell out. And maybe... okay, most definitely, rob you again.”
I smirk in the dark. “And now?”
“The world’s not ready for the things I want to do to keep you mine.” ??My breath leaves me in a rush.
Fuck.
She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch. Just stares at me like she’s laying her soul bare and waiting for me to do the same.
“You scare me,” I admit.
She nods. Somber and divine. “You said that before.”
“I know. Still true. Truer.”
Her lips tremble. Just slightly. “I’m terrified too, if it helps. With how much I want to make it real.”
“Dahlia…” I exhale roughly. “I fucking love you. But…” My throat works.
I cover her hand with mine, anchoring us there.
Just that simple press of flesh to flesh.
“I don’t know how to do this any other way than owning you—body, mind, heart.
Controlling every inch, code and component until you forget who you were before me.
I will take you apart, remake you, and never give you back. Do you understand?”
“I understand, Sir.”
“Then take a beat before you jump. One way or another.”
She nods. “Okay. I will.”
God. She makes it sound so simple.
And somehow, impossibly, I believe her.
Because I’ve already given her things I’ve never given anyone—my trust, my pain, my complete Dominance. She’s tasted every bitter part of me and still looks at me like I’m something worth keeping.
And yet she hasn’t said the words. Maybe she’s hedging. Giving herself an out?
Maybe this is just the start of everything falling apart.
Or maybe it’s the moment we build something neither of us planned for.
She leans in and kisses me again. No heat this time. Just warmth and lips on lips. A kind of promise.
I pull her back into my arms, wrapping her tightly against me, and we fall asleep like that.
Tangled.
Surrendered.
Together.
For now.