Chapter Nine
Seraphina
Imagination – Shawn Mendes
Ishift slowly, easing out of Trey’s arms even though every instinct screams to stay right there, wrapped in his warmth, breathing him in like oxygen.
The moment I move, emptiness rushes in.
I force myself upright anyway, hands already reaching for the blanket.
I push it down his body.
My breath catches.
At first, I only see ink—black, intricate, familiar. A map I’ve traced a thousand times.
But then I look closer.
Really look, and everything in me stops.
Bruises bloom beneath the tattoos.
Deep purples. Sick yellows. Wrapped along his ribs, collarbone, shoulders—like the ink is only pretending to protect him. Healing cuts slice through it all, thin stitched lines disappearing beneath black curves.
The tattoos hide some of it.
But not enough.
Not even close.
My chest tightens painfully.
“Trey…”
My voice breaks before I even finish his name.
My hands hover above him, afraid to touch too hard, afraid of what it will mean if I do.
I swing my leg over him carefully, straddling his hips so I can see all of him.
So I can’t miss anything.
My palms settle against his chest.
Warm skin. Real heartbeat. Steady and strong beneath my hands.
My fingers trace a bruise along his ribs, then another beneath ink on his shoulder.
My throat burns.
Gideon almost took him from me.
His hands come up instinctively, settling at my waist.
Those green eyes lift to mine.
Forest-deep. Fierce. Alive.
But softer when they find me.
“I’m okay,” he murmurs.
I shake my head immediately, still searching his body like I can undo what I’m seeing.
“Are you in pain?” I whisper. “When did you leave the hospital?”
His mouth tilts—small, exhausted, devastatingly familiar.
Dimples.
That cracks something in me.
I lift my hand and touch one gently, like I need proof he’s still real.
“A little,” he admits, thumb brushing slow circles into my hip. “But I can breathe now that I’m with you.”
He sighs.
“I… left hours ago.”
My stomach drops.
“You came straight here?” I breathe.
His gaze doesn’t leave mine.
“Where else would I go?”
That undoes me.
My hands flatten over his chest, right above his heart.
It beats under my palms.
“You’re insane,” I whisper, broken.
“For you?” His voice softens. “Always.”
Something in my chest cracks open.
I lean down without thinking.
My lips brush his collarbone.
Not a kiss yet.
A check.
A confirmation.
Real skin. Real heat. He’s really here.
His hands tighten at my hips instantly.
“You feel hot,” I whisper against him.
His breath shifts.
“That’s because I burn for you,” he murmurs, low and rough.
My fingers trail his throat, over the barbed-wire crown inked there.
“I can see that,” I whisper.
The words come out shakier than I mean them to.
“You’re mine,” I say again.
This time, it’s not a question.
Its fear dressed as certainty.
“Always,” he answers immediately.
And something inside me finally tips.
I kiss him.
Soft.
Unsteady.
Not asking for anything except proof.
For half a second, he lets me.
Let’s me decide.
Let’s me breathe.
Then he breaks.
One hand snaps up to the back of my neck, the other tangling in my hair as he tilts me exactly where he wants me.
And then he kisses me back.
Hard.
Possessive.
Starved.
It isn’t gentle anymore.
It’s everything we didn’t survive together while we were apart.
Fear. Rage. Relief. Love.
All of it colliding.
I melt into him, fingers gripping his shoulders, feeling every bruise beneath my touch like evidence he made it back.
When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
Foreheads pressed together.
His thumb strokes my jaw—too gentle for how violently he just kissed me.
“I’ll kill anyone who touches you,” he murmurs. “Even looks at you wrong.”
My breath shakes.
His gaze softens just slightly at the edges.
Tears spill before I can stop them.
“You’re really here,” I whisper.
His hand tightens around my waist.
“I never left you,” he says quietly. “Even when you couldn’t see me.”
That’s what breaks me.
I fold into him completely.
His arms wrap around me instantly, pulling me down with him, holding me like I’m something he refuses to ever lose again.
“You’re not leaving,” I murmur into his neck.
“Not ever,” he says.
And I believe him.
For the first time in too long… I breathe without breaking.