Chapter 14 #2
“By doing what? Letting Hyde run free at town events?” He laughed bitterly. “That would undo a century of goodwill in about thirty seconds.”
“Or maybe it would show people that Hydes can be trusted. That control isn’t the same as suppression.” She shifted to face him fully. “Victor, you’re so busy trying to prove you’re not dangerous that you’ve never let anyone see you’re actually safe.”
The distinction made his head spin. Not dangerous versus actually safe. Suppression versus integration. Fear versus trust.
“I don’t know how,” he admitted. “How to be different. How to let Hyde out without risking everything.”
“You could start small.” Her hand found his. “With me. In private. Where it’s safe to experiment.”
“Experiment how?”
“Let Hyde emerge. See what he does. Learn to trust him.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m not afraid, Victor. Whatever happens, I trust you. Both of you.”
Hyde surged forward, responding to her faith with fierce protectiveness, and he felt his hand grow in hers. He watched his fingers lengthen and his palm widen. She didn’t flinch, just adjusted her grip, threading their fingers together.
“See? Safe.”
“Chloe—”
“No.” She cut him off. “I know what you’re going to say.
That it’s dangerous. That you can’t control it.
That something could go wrong.” Her eyes locked with his.
“But you need to hear this. I’m not afraid of Hyde.
I’m not afraid of you. And I’m not going to let you push me away because you’re scared of something that hasn’t happened and might never happen. ”
Her vehemence stunned him into silence.
“Now.” Chloe pulled his enlarged hand to her belly, pressing his palm against the swell of the baby. “Feel that?”
A flutter against his hand. Small but distinct. The baby was moving.
Hyde melted. He felt it happen—the fierce guardian dissolving into something tender and awed. His hand stayed large but became impossibly gentle, cupping her belly like it was made of spun sugar.
“The baby knows you,” she whispered. “She moves more when you’re around, like she can sense Hyde’s protectiveness.”
“That’s not—” His voice cracked. “Chloe, it’s not my child.”
“I know.” She covered his hand with both of hers. “But Hyde doesn’t care about biology. And honestly? Neither do I.”
The confession broke something in his chest. She means it, Hyde said. She wants us. Both of us.
This is insane, he thought. She should run. Should find someone safe and uncomplicated.
We are safe, Hyde said firmly. For her. Always for her.
The baby kicked again, stronger this time, and his breath caught. “Did you feel that?”
“All the time lately. Little acrobat.” She smiled. “Sometimes I think she’s practicing for gymnastics. Or maybe kickboxing.”
“Strong,” he murmured, his medical instincts engaging despite his emotional chaos. “Good muscle tone. Healthy movement patterns.”
“Always the doctor.”
“Trying to be.” But his hand stayed on her belly, marveling at each tiny movement.
She leaned into him, her head finding his shoulder. “This is nice.”
It was nice. Dangerously so. The kind of nice that made Victor want things he’d convinced himself he could never have.
Family. Partnership. Home. Love, Hyde whispered.
His hand was shrinking again, returning to human proportions, but he didn’t move it from her belly.
He couldn’t make himself break the connection.
“I should go,” he said, not moving.
“You keep saying that.”
“I mean it.”
“Do you?” She tilted her head back to look at him. “Because your actions suggest otherwise.”
Her lips were inches from his. All he’d have to do was dip his head and they’d be kissing. One kiss. Just one. Bad idea, the rational part of his brain insisted. Physical contact escalates Hyde’s response. You know this.
One kiss won’t hurt, Hyde argued. She wants it. We want it. Where’s the harm?
“Victor,” she said softly. “Stop thinking so hard and kiss me.”
He was supposed to refuse, supposed to maintain professional distance, but professional distance had been a fiction for weeks now. He dipped his head and captured her mouth with his.
She made a small sound of satisfaction and melted into him.
Her hands came up to frame his face, and when her tongue swept against his, he felt every carefully constructed wall crack and crumble.
The kiss deepened. Slowed. Became something thorough and deliberate that had nothing to do with desperation and everything to do with knowing. Claiming.
Hyde pressed forward, but this time he didn’t fight it. He let the guardian’s possessive satisfaction bleed through, and let his hands grow as they curved around Chloe’s waist, careful and sure. She hummed approval against his mouth, pressing closer despite the baby bump between them.
“Victor,” she breathed when they finally broke apart. “That’s how you should kiss me. Like that. Every time.”
His eyes were glowing. He could feel it—the green light bleeding through as Hyde hovered just beneath his skin.
“I’m not pulling back,” he said, needing her to understand. “But if this escalates—”
“Then we’ll deal with it.” Her fingers traced his jaw. “Together.”
Together, Hyde echoed, satisfied.
He kissed her again, softer this time but no less affecting. His enlarged hands splayed across her back, and when she shifted to straddle his lap—awkward with the baby but determined—he helped her settle, supporting her weight like it was nothing.
“Comfortable?” His voice was rougher than normal, edged with Hyde’s growl.
“Perfect.” She looped her arms around his neck. “This is perfect.”
Perfect and terrifying and everything he had convinced himself he couldn’t have.
But as she kissed him again, her fingers threading through his hair and her pregnant belly pressed between them, he found himself wanting to try.
Wanting to believe that he could have this, have her, without destroying everything in the process.