Chapter 33
She’s here. I’m in her bed. My arms wrapped around her, legs tangled, breathing soft against my chest. She’s mine. God, she’s mine, but the world isn’t. Not yet. Not completely.
I should be calm. She’s sleeping. Safe. But my mind refuses peace. Blake. That fucking ghost. The memory of her lips on him, no, not just her lips, the betrayal of my fantasy, the theft of a moment I wanted for myself. I grind my jaw. My hands tighten around her waist.
I see it all, the empire I’ve built, the control I have over containers, buildings, flights, accounts and it means nothing compared to this.
To her. To her heart in my hands. The power I wield, the world I dominate, all reduced to nothing when she breathes, when she moans softly in sleep, when her pulse matches mine beneath my fingers.
I hate Blake. I hate the way he touched her, the way she let him. I hate that she even needed to. And yet… I understand. I’ve waited my whole life to claim her, to protect her, to own the part of her that was always mine, even before she knew it.
I trace her jawline, memorising every curve. My mind races: deals, negotiations, deadlines, but all are irrelevant. I think about how far I’ll go. How much I’ll destroy. Not for power, not for money, not for revenge, but for her. For the promise that I can never let anyone hurt her again.
She needs me. She’s mine. And I will burn the world to prove it.
I imagine Blake waking to her absence, his smug smile eroding as he realises the depth of what I’ve taken from him, her untouched by his lies and untouched by his ghosts.
I fantasize about confronting him. Not just Blake, but anyone who looks at her the wrong way.
I want to carve a path of fire for them all.
And yet… she’s asleep. Vulnerable. Fragile. Mine. I press my lips against her temple, tracing her cheek, memorising the softness, the curve of her eyelashes against her skin. Her scent, vanilla, jasmine, soft, so intoxicating it fills my senses. Every inhale is a promise, every exhale a threat.
I’m losing control. Not over her. Never over her. But over the need. The ache. The possession. I’ve wanted this, her, forever, and now that she’s finally here, my mind doesn’t know how to contain it. My body doesn’t know how to stop.
I pull back slightly, hovering over her, watching, cataloguing. She breathes, unaware of the storm I am. I could wake her. I could bend her into my chaos. But I won’t not tonight. Not yet. Tonight, she sleeps. Tonight, I watch.
Every muscle in my body wants to claim her.
Every thought screams her name. I make a silent vow: when she opens her eyes, when she wakes, she will know.
She will feel the depth of my obsession, the breadth of my devotion, the fury of my desire.
And she will never doubt that I will destroy anything, anyone, to keep her safe, to keep her mine.
Blake is dead to me. His shadow purged. But the fire he left in me for her uncontrollable, relentless, all-consuming burns hotter than anything else I’ve ever known. And I will let it. Because she deserves nothing less than the full force of me.
I press my lips once more to the crown of her head, whispering softly, though she cannot hear:
You are mine, Peach. Every piece. Every heartbeat. Every breath. And I will make you feel it, every second of every day.