FORTY-ONE #3
My knot catches fully as my teeth sink into her throat. Dakota cries out, a shattering sound that I lock away in my brain to keep until the end of time. Her body locks around me at the exact same time, tight and deep and final.
I hold still through the first violent pull of it and through the snap of the bond.
It doesn’t form like Ewan’s. I can feel that even without knowing his from the inside.
This bond does not flare bright, instead it drops heavily and deep. Like a locked door opening underground. Or a blade set down carefully. Or a dangerous thing lowering itself to one knee because it chooses not to stand over her.
Dakota sobs once against my shoulder, but not in fear. It’s release.
I feel her through the bond.
Not thoughts, just fragments.
Blood on her hands. The cold thing inside her. Her rage at Davis. Her fear that her body liked being useful. Her disgust, stubbornness, and want, scalding and furious because even now, especially now, she refuses to let fear have all of her.
I give her what I have in return.
Control.
Stillness.
Restraint.
Not a cage.
A hand on the door.
A voice saying, not without you.
She breaks apart around me and I follow right after her, groaning my own release with my knot attached to her pulsing body all because she lets me.
Because she holds my face against her throat and says my name like she is demanding I fall over the edge with her.
Because the knot locks us together in a way I don’t ever want to forget and the bond settles beneath my ribs with a weight I know I’ll carry for the rest of my life.
When it’s over, we’re both shaking. Dakota is in my lap on the mat, arms banded tightly around my shoulders, face buried against my neck.
I am still inside her and still blissfully knotted.
One of my hands rests on her back while the other remains open on the mat where she can see it if she pulls away.
She doesn’t pull away. For a while, she only breathes. Then, muffled against my skin, she says, “You’re heavy in my chest.”
I close my eyes. “Hmm.”
“Different from Ewan.”
My jaw tightens, but not from jealousy. It’s more reality. “That’s good.”
She lifts her head enough to look at me. “Good?”
“Yeah. I mean, you shouldn’t feel the same thing twice, right?”
Her eyes search mine. “I don’t.”
“What does it feel like?”
Her face screws up like she hates that I asked. Then she says, “Like you’re standing guard with all the lights off.”
Something inside my chest gives. “That… doesn’t sound very nice.”
“It is.” She frowns harder. “I mean, it’s annoying, but it’s not uncomfortable.”
“Wow. High praise.”
“Don’t get cocky.”
I almost smile. Almost. Then it fades.
Her gaze drops to my shoulder, where she bit me hard enough to leave a mark. Not a claim. Just… Dakota being Dakota. Then her eyes drift lower, to my side. The skin around the stitches is a little irritated and red now, yanked about and pulled tight from movement.
Her mouth presses flat before accusing, “You’re bleeding.”
I glance down, only to find a small speckle of blood blooming on my side. It’s annoying, but it’s not enough to pull me away from this moment. From Dakota. So I tell her, “It can wait.”
“No, it can’t.”
“Dakota—”
“No.” Her voice is rough, but steadier. “You don’t get to make me own my choices and then hide yours.”
That stops me, because it’s fair. Annoying but totally fair.
“I’m still scared,” she whispers.
“I know.”
“Not of you.”
“I know that too.”
Her eyes lift and I hold them.
“I’m scared of what they’ll do when they figure out what I am.”
“Honestly, so am I.”
Her breath catches at the honesty and I touch her face. I’m careful about it, but she doesn’t shy away, not even when I promise, “I’m not scared of you, Kota.”
Her eyes shine.
“I am scared for you,” I add. “And that’s a pretty big difference.”
She swallows before nodding slowly.
Outside the locked door, voices travel down the hallway. They’re distant. Careful. Waiting.
Of course, because it looks like Haven Ridge wants answers and the bastards outside have grown impatient. Mercer wants tests. At least the dead don’t want anything other than a bone to chew on.
Dakota presses her forehead to mine. “If they try to use me?”
My hands tighten once and then loosen just as quickly. “Then they’ll learn what happens when dangerous people choose each other.”
She stares at me for a second, and then she laughs. It’s only a small and slightly broken sound, but it’s real. It’s so fucking real and beautiful. “Genuinely, that was almost romantic.”
“Almost?” I blurt, raising an eyebrow at her.
“I mean, yeah? You did just threaten an entire compound.”
“For you,” I say, like it’s obvious that it should be the most romantic thing in the world to her.
“Yeah,” she whispers then, a faint ghost of a smile on her lips. Her fingers slide into my hair, gentler this time as she adds, “That helps.”
I lean in and kiss her once. Not to start anything or end anything. Just because I can, and because she leans into it. Because she lets me and takes what she wants and what I’m more than willing to give her.
When she pulls back, her eyes are still afraid. Afraid, but she is absolutely still there. Really, truly there.
In her body, in her choices, and in the blood and the bond and the stubborn little lift of her chin.
Kaito Kanai does not make vows out loud. Not easily and definitely not where people can hear them.
But with Dakota still locked around me, my bite on her throat, and her heart beating hard against mine, I make one anyway.
Not to keep her.
Not to control her.
Not to save her from herself.
But to stand in the storm with her for however long she’ll let me.