Chapter 20
Kissing Chloe tasted like coming home.
Victor had told himself he could resist. He’d convinced himself that being near her without touching her was possible if he just maintained enough control, but one touch of her lips shattered that lie completely.
His hand came up to cup her face, his fingers trembling.
She was so warm and alive. Everything in him—human and Hyde both—sang at the contact.
Mine.
The thought came from both halves of himself, unified for once.
Ours.
She made a soft little sound against his mouth and his control slipped even further.
He should pull back. Should explain that he’d only come to check on her, not to complicate things further.
But she was leaning into him, one hand fisted in his borrowed flannel shirt, and pulling away felt impossible.
“Chloe.” Her name came out roughly when they broke for air. “I can’t—we shouldn’t—”
“Why not?”
The simple question stopped him cold.
Why not? His mind supplied a dozen reasons. His lack of control. The danger. The fact that he’d already hurt her once by leaving.
But sitting here in candlelight with her hand over his heart, all those reasons felt hollow and distant.
“I’m afraid,” he admitted, the words scraped out. “Every time I touch you, Hyde gets stronger. What if I can’t maintain control?”
Her thumb stroked across his knuckles. “Have you hurt me yet?”
“No, but—”
“Have you hurt anyone? Ever?”
His jaw clenched. “My father did. Lost control completely and terrorized my mother for years before she finally left.”
“You’re not your father.”
“How can you be sure?” The question burst out, raw and desperate. “How can you trust me when I don’t trust myself?”
She shifted closer, awkward around her belly but determined. “Because I’ve seen you, Victor. Both sides of you. And neither one has ever done anything but protect me.”
“Once.” His free hand clenched. “Last week was one time. That’s not enough data to—”
“Stop.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “Stop treating this like a medical problem you can diagnose. Some things can’t be predicted or controlled. Sometimes you just have to trust.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Then learn.” Her eyes were serious in the firelight. “With me. Right now.”
His breath caught. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I want you.” Her cheeks flushed but she didn’t look away. “Human or Hyde or both. I want all of you, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t.”
Heat flooded his body and Hyde surged closer to the surface, eager and hungry.
Mate. Ours. Want.
“Chloe, I—” Victor fought for words. For reason. “You deserve better than someone who might lose control.”
“I deserve someone who cares about me. Who shows up in blizzards to make sure I’m safe. Who looks at me like I’m precious.” She shifted her hand to his chest, fingers splaying over his racing heart. “I deserve you. If you’ll let yourself have this.”
Victor closed his eyes. The war inside him raged—Hyde demanding, his human side terrified.
But beneath both was a truth he’d been avoiding for weeks.
He loved her.
Loved her courage and her kindness. Loved how she faced down his monster without flinching. Loved the way she touched him like he was worth touching.
And maybe—just maybe—that love was stronger than his fear.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he said, opening his eyes to meet her gaze. “Every moment this week has been torture.”
“Then stop torturing yourself.” she leaned in, breath ghosting across his lips. “Stop running. Just… be here. With me.”
He kissed her before he could talk himself out of it. Slower this time. Deeper. Pouring everything he couldn’t say into the press of lips and tongue.
She made a sound that shot straight through him. Her hand fisted tighter in his shirt, pulling him closer.
The baby kicked between them and he pulled back with a startled laugh.
“Someone has opinions,” she said breathlessly.
“Smart baby.” His hand settled over her belly, marveling at the movement beneath his palm. “Knows to protect their mother.”
“I don’t need protecting from you.”
“Maybe I need protecting from myself.”
She caught his face between her hands. “Then let me. Let me show you that you’re not dangerous. That you’re exactly what I need.”
His eyes burned. When had he last cried? Years. Decades, maybe. But Chloe’s absolute faith in him broke something open in his chest.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.
“Too bad.” She smiled. “You’re stuck with me anyway.”
He kissed her again. Let himself sink into the taste and feel of her without overthinking. Without analyzing every sensation for signs of losing control.
She responded with equal hunger, fingers sliding into his hair. The angle was awkward with her belly between them but he didn’t care. Having her in his arms again felt like breathing after drowning.
Hyde stirred but didn’t surge, didn’t demand control. Instead he seemed content to simply revel in their mate’s closeness.
Safe, Hyde purred. Ours. Keep.
For once, he agreed completely.
She shifted and winced. “The couch isn’t ideal for this.”
He pulled back immediately. “Am I hurting you?”
“No. Just…” She gestured at her belly. “Seven months pregnant makes certain positions challenging.”
Heat flooded his face. “I wasn’t trying to—we don’t have to—”
“I want to.” Her directness would never stop surprising him. “If you do.”
Want didn’t begin to cover it. He burned with need—had been burning since the first time he’d seen her, suppressing it with brutal discipline.
But the thought of taking her here, in the middle of a blizzard with only firelight and no certainty of control…
“The floor,” she said. “In front of the fire. There’s more room and it’s warm.”
His mouth went dry. “Are you sure?”
“Victor.” She touched his face gently. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
He helped her stand, hyper-aware of her every movement. She was so pregnant. So vulnerable. So absolutely fearless.
She grabbed the blankets from the couch and spread them in front of the fireplace. The flames cast dancing shadows across her face as she turned to him.
“Well? Are you going to stand there all night or come here?”
He moved before he could overthink it. He helped her down onto the blankets with careful hands, then knelt beside her.
“Slow,” he said, half-plea, half-command—to himself as much as her. “I need to go slow.”
“We have all night.” Her fingers traced his jaw. “No rush.”
He kissed her again, losing himself in the slide of lips and tongue. His hands settled on her hips, thumbs stroking in slow circles. Her sweater was soft under his palms but he slid his hands beneath it, needing to touch her skin. She shivered at the touch and he froze.
“Cold?”
“No.” Her laugh was breathless. “Very much not cold.”
His control wavered, and Hyde pressed closer, wanting more, demanding more. But he could handle this. He could give them both what they needed without losing himself.
I hope.
He helped her out of her sweater with shaking hands. She wore a simple cotton camisole underneath, stretched tight over her belly and breasts.
Beautiful. She was so beautiful it hurt to look at her.
“Your turn,” she said, tugging at his borrowed flannel.
He stripped the shirt off and her breath caught. Her hands settled on his chest, exploring with a wonder that made him tremble.
“You’re so warm,” she murmured. “Like you’re burning up.”
“Hyde’s close.” He forced the words out. “Can you feel him?”
“Yes.” Her hands slid higher, fingers tracing his collarbones. “Does it bother you?”
“I don’t know.” Honest answer. His skin felt too tight, his muscles shifting under her touch in ways that weren’t entirely human. “I’m trying not to panic.”
“Then don’t think.” She leaned in and pressed her lips to his chest, right over his racing heart. “Just feel.”
His hands clenched on her hips. Every touch sent heat spiraling through him—human desire tangled with Hyde’s possessive hunger.
Ours, Hyde growled. Claim. Mark. Keep.
But beneath the primal demand was something softer. A tenderness that he hadn’t expected. Hyde wanted to cherish her. Protect her. Worship her. The same things he wanted. Maybe they weren’t so different after all.
He kissed her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, slow kisses meant to savor rather than consume, and she melted against him with a sigh.
“I thought I’d lost you,” she whispered.
“Never.” The word came out rougher than intended. “I’m sorry I made you think that. Sorry I was too afraid to—”
She kissed him quiet. “No more apologies. Not tonight.”
He nodded and focused on touching her, learning her. His hands mapped her shoulders, her arms, the curve of her waist with careful touches that made her shiver and arch into him. When he helped her out of the camisole, reverence flooded him.
She was magnificent. All soft curves and new life, glowing in the firelight.
“Beautiful,” he breathed. “You’re so beautiful.”
Her cheeks flushed. “I’m huge.”
“You’re perfect.” He kissed her shoulder, her throat, the swell of her breast. “Absolutely perfect.”
Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close. Her pulse raced under his lips—steady proof of life and trust. He took his time exploring her, and let himself sink into sensation without fear. His hands grew larger as Hyde pressed closer, his fingers thickening and his nails darkening.
She didn’t flinch, just stroked the changed hands and guided them where she wanted them.
“I love your hands,” she said. “Both versions.”
His throat tightened. “You’re not afraid.”
“I have no reason to be.”
“Most people would be.”
She tilted his face up to meet her eyes. “I’m not most people. And I know that you—both versions of you—would never hurt me.”
The absolute certainty in her voice undid him. He kissed her with all the emotion he couldn’t speak. Gratitude and wonder and love tangled together. She responded with equal intensity, pulling him closer despite the awkwardness of her belly.