Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kayden
I fucked up.
Gloriously. Catastrophically.
Everything she feared, I gave to her on a silver platter. The monster she peeked beneath the charm—the thing she tried to pretend wasn't there—I proved its existence.
That's what I am.
I couldn't stop myself. Couldn't hold the line.
I tasted her. And I liked it. No. I craved it. Needed it like nothing else in my whole damned life.
Then I ran. Like a fucking coward.
Because I knew if I stayed a second longer, I'd finish what I started.
I had to call my perfect brother to clean up after me. The reliable one. The controlled one. The one who didn't sink his fangs into her skin like a rabid animal.
Fuck. This.
Why do I even try to be different?
I've always been this. Since Culloden. Since the bloodlust first hit and we tore each other apart like wild dogs in the mud. I remember the taste of it—iron and heat and death. How right it felt in the moment.
Asher didn't lose himself. Not then. Not now.
He can have her. He deserves her. The savior. The steady hand. The one who can offer her peace instead of destruction.
Not me.
I'm not peace. I'm fire. I'm ruin. I'm not the fucking nature-hugging, chakra-balancing, incense-burning fantasy some part of her probably wants to believe in. I'm what happens when the fantasy bites back.
I roam the woods until the thrum in my veins dulls from a war drum to a heartbeat. It never really stops. But it slows.
By dawn, I've made up my mind: I'll pack my shit and leave. I've overstayed my welcome anyway.
I head straight to my room. No tiptoeing, no pretending to give a damn who's asleep. I'm done here.
I'm almost through the door when I hear it—
Click.
The sound of a door opening behind me. Not just any door. His.
I turn.
Sage.
Coming out of his bedroom.
Well, fuck me sideways.
"Oh, I see," I say, voice low and sharp. "You're all healed up, and you thanked your savior with a good time. That's generous of you."
It comes out more bitter than I intended. Not because of the sex. That's not what this is about.
I slam my door hard enough to rattle the frame. Acting like a pissy teenager, I know. But better a slammed door than what I really want to do.
Because what's churning inside me isn't jealousy. It's possession. And that's worse.
She should stay away. She should run.
She should.
But instead, the ridiculous, stubborn, fire-eyed little nymph pushes my door open and walks into the room.
"If you came here looking for an apology, sunshine," I mutter, not even glancing her way, "you've picked the wrong fucking room. I don't hand those out."
I throw a shirt into my duffel with too much force. I should've walked out and left everything behind. But no, had to come back for a goddamn sweater.
"That's not why I'm here," she says evenly.
"Then go back to my brother," I snap. "You two can go brew tea and hum hymns to the sunrise or whatever it is that makes you feel whole."
Another sweater gets shoved in. Then boots. Then rage.
"Kayden."
Stern now.
Commanding.
I drop the bag.
Turn. She's standing, arms crossed. A bandage on one.
I clench my jaw, rage at myself surging, but it spills out on her.
"There," I say, spreading my arms. "Take a good look, nature queen. All yours to behold."
And then I move.
In a blink, I've got her pinned. Her back hits the wall with a thud, my body pressing into hers roughly. My fangs drop. The predator unmasked.
"You think you can stroll in here, all high and righteous, and fix me?" I snarl, breath hot against her skin. "Reform me? What do you think this is—some vampire rehab sponsored by Saint Asher?"
I press in harder, one arm braced beside her head, the other gripping her waist. Not cruel, but not gentle either.
"You want to understand what I am?" I murmur, voice lowering. "Let me make it clear."
My hand drags up her side, to her throat. I wrap my fingers around it—not squeezing, just holding.
"I am the monster you thought I was. The reason you feared me? You were right."
I tighten. Enough for her to feel the threat simmering beneath the surface.
"I could end you right here. One twist. No fanfare."
Then I let go. Step back.
A smirk curves my lips, cold and controlled. "So go ahead—run. While I'm still feeling generous."
I turn away. Shoulders tense, muscles coiled, the storm inside me almost winning.
"Kayden."
Her voice slices clean and strong. She's not afraid. She should be.
I pivot, smirk still carved on my face. "What—"
Crack.
Her fist slams into my jaw.
My head snaps sideways with the impact. Pain blossoms across my cheekbone, hot and sharp. I stagger back, blinking.
Well damn. She hit me.
I press my hand to my jaw, eyes locking on hers.
She's breathing hard, standing her ground, fire dancing in those green eyes like a fucking battle cry. And gods help me… I've never wanted her more.
"I know what you are, Kayden," she snaps, and shoves me hard.
I stumble back a step, more from shock than force.
Did she just—?
"I knew it back at the club," she goes on, eyes burning into mine. "When I let you kiss me, even when every logical instinct I had screamed not to. Every damn thing I knew about vampires told me to run."
Another shove.
Another step back.
I let her.
Because what the hell is happening here?
"And then," she says, stepping into me, voice sharper than her hands, "against every rule, every line carved into me by pain and survival, I let you bite me."
Shove.
Step.
"I knew it was dangerous. I knew it could kill me. But I let you. And I enjoyed it. Okay?"
Another shove.
And fuck me, my heart might actually be stuttering.
"Because I felt something. For a stranger. A vampire. Something stronger than logic, than experience, stronger than every scar that said don't you fucking dare, and I still fell for you in that moment…"
Shove.
I catch her wrists this time.
Pull her in.
"You… fell for me?" I breathe.
I heard it. I just… can't believe I heard it.
"Yes, you idiot," she snaps, eyes flashing. "So maybe stop acting like a three-hundred-year-old child and talk to me."
I let out a stunned laugh. "Fell for me," I echo, head tilting, something twisted and warm churning low in my chest. "So the big, bad vampire got under the skin of the elusive, forest-tied nymph with just a kiss, huh? Must've been one hell of a kiss."
Her arms twitch like she's going to swat me again, but I tighten my grip, grinning.
"You're an asshole," she growls.
"Yeah. And you still fell for me, nymph. So who's really at fault here?"
I pull her against me, wrapping her in my arms that didn't know they could hold someone like this.
"Say it again," I murmur into her hair.
She exhales like I'm impossible. But then, soft as moss in moonlight: "I fell for you, Kayden. It was strong. Visceral. I still don't understand it."
"I bit you tonight," I say, low, my breath tracing her jaw. "I lost control."
"I know," she replies. "But then you stopped. You managed to stop. Even after tasting me." She pulls back just enough to look me in the eye. "You chose to stop."
I nod once. Slowly.
Fuck. I almost ruined everything.
Again.
But I don't say that out loud. Instead, I ask, "So what now?"
She smiles, a dangerous, heated smile that still somehow looks sweet.
Her hands flatten against my chest.
"Now," she says, voice turning molten, "you shut the fuck up, stop acting like a broody vamp with a puberty complex…"
A push.
I let her.
Another push, harder this time, and I hit the bed, landing with a grunt.
"…and we make love."
She climbs onto me like a queen claiming her throne, her body sliding over mine, hips brushing just enough to make my cock twitch.
"Is that so?" I ask, folding my hands behind my head, smirking up at her like the cocky bastard I am.
"That is so," she murmurs, then leans in and bites my earlobe, sharp enough to make me hiss through my teeth.
Her lips brush my ear.
"And I'm going to ride you," she whispers, "until you explode, and we grow a damn forest outside."
Well, fuck. If that's not a religion, I don't know what is.
She straddles me, still clothed, her soft pajama pants clinging to her thighs, the hem of her borrowed shirt brushing my stomach. I'm in jeans, and the fabric between us is a curse now, separating skin that aches to meet.
We're both breathing hard from the weight of what this is. Her fingers move first. She slides them beneath the hem of her shirt and lifts it over her head, slow and smooth, exposing the curve of her waist, her breasts, the soft trail of ink winding along her ribs like vines reaching for light.
I prop myself on my elbows, drinking her in. "Goddamn," I murmur.
She smiles, a slow, knowing thing, and reaches down to the drawstring of her pants, tugging them loose. She rises onto her knees to slide them off, her thighs brushing mine in the process, and it's maddening.
Underneath, she's bare. No underwear. Just skin, heat, and the shimmer of arousal already slick between her legs.
My breath catches. My fangs threaten to drop again, not from hunger but from something deeper—need tethered to worship.
She tilts her head. "Your turn."
I obey.
It's not a performance. I just want her hands on me. Want nothing between us.
I reach for the button of my jeans, undo them with a slow pull of the zipper, and shove them down along with my briefs, just enough to free myself. Her eyes drop, and she bites her bottom lip, dragging her palm slowly, possessively along the length of me.
The contact nearly undoes me.
She shifts onto me, aligning us. I'm ready.
I'm always ready for her.
However… nothing could've prepared me for this. She lowers onto me slowly, inch by aching inch, and my head tips back against the mattress with a groan torn straight from my chest.
"Fuck, Sage…"
She's tight. Hot. Perfect.
We stay there, still for a moment, locked, pressed close, her hands braced on my chest, her breath stuttering in time with mine.
And then she moves, slow and claiming. Like I'm hers. And I let her. Because I am, and I'd sell my nonexistent soul for her in a heartbeat.
My hands don't grip her hips to guide. I don't flip her over and take the reins like I usually do. I stay where I am, worshiping every motion she makes.
She sets the rhythm, slow and deep, her thighs trembling as she rides me like it means something. And it does. Because this isn't just sex. It's communion. An undoing.
It's home.
Her pace quickens. Still controlled, still deep, but there's more urgency now. Her head tips back, lips parted, a sound escaping her throat that's half-moan, half some ancient nature prayer.
I grip the sheets beside me, knuckles white, resisting the urge to take over.
Because watching her like this, feeling her, is unraveling something in me I didn't know was wound so tight.
"Sage…" I whisper, the name catching like heat behind my teeth.
She rides me with a rhythm that feels older than both of us, like we've done this before in another life, like her body was built to move with mine.
When she starts to fall apart, her hands clutching at my chest, her rhythm faltering and her breath hitching like a sob, something inside me snaps.
I surge with her, into her, my hips rising to meet hers, matching the tempo she set, surrendering to it as my release tears through me. Hot, shuddering, complete.
She cries out, back arching, muscles tightening around me as she follows, her body trembling in waves above mine.
We come undone together. Not in chaos—not my usual thing—but in something that's as close to holy as a damned creature like me can approach.
When the tremors pass, when her breath stills to soft exhales, and she sways above me, spent, I reach up without thinking and pull her down into my chest.
No words. No smirk. No tease. Just my arms wrapping around her, strong and sure, holding her close. Her cheek rests against my shoulder, lips brushing my collarbone. I feel her heartbeat still racing, matching mine.
For a while, we just breathe in sync, tangled.
And I realize—this… this right here is something I've never done. Held someone like it mattered this much. Not after. Not ever.
But I don't let go. Because right now, with her skin against mine, her scent in my lungs, and her heartbeat soft against my chest, I don't want to be anywhere else.
Maybe I never did.