Chapter 11
Adora
Five months. It’s been five months today since we got married.
My time’s up. And fuck, I don’t want it to be.
I’m lying in bed, unmoving, staring at the ceiling like it might give me the answers to the questions I’m too afraid to ask out loud.
Dominic isn’t back yet. Club business. He kissed me last night. Fucked me. Fed me. And, like always, threw one of his casual, barely-there threats over his shoulder before walking out the door.
Routine. Reassuring, in its own twisted way.
But now I’m empty.
I didn’t think it would feel like this. These months — this whole fucked up arrangement — I expected pain. Instead, I felt cherished. Wanted. Maybe even loved.
That voice of warning in my head? The one that used to scream at me to be careful? It went quiet a long time ago.
He hasn’t hurt me. Not once. He only gave me warmth. Safety. Music.
He’s been playing the violin more and more for me. Sometimes I surprise myself by humming along under my breath. Quietly, a sound that’s almost not there. And the way he looks at me when I do — like I’m breathing life back into him — it makes me want to never stop.
His music. His mouth. His arms around me in the middle of the night…
God, I’ll miss it.
I’ll miss him.
I’ve been trying so fucking hard to keep my guard up. To remember why I can’t fall again. But it’s almost impossible when all I want is to drown in him, just like I did when I was nineteen.
I’m not even moving today. Not getting up from this bed. I’ll just wait for him to come, glare at me, point at the door and tell me to get the hell out.
A sudden click echoes in the hallway — the front door. It cuts straight through my thoughts. He’s back,. My heart stumbles, but I stay still, eyes locked on the ceiling, frozen.
I wait with bated breath. The bedroom door opens.
Still, I don’t move.
The mattress dips under his weight, and then, he’s over me, crawling. Slow. Intentional.
His hand cups my cheek, tilting my face upward. He’s smiling. He presses a long, tender kiss to my lips, slow and devastating.
“Hello, adorable,” he whispers against my mouth.
“Hello, Dominic,” I breathe back.
His hands move to undress me. Gentle. Careful, like he wants to savor every second.
Is this it? Is this our goodbye? Is he going to break me one last time, softly?
I don’t know, but I let him. And I pray, silently, that this isn’t the end. That maybe... just maybe… he wants more, too.