Chapter 6 #2
I looked at her, really looked at her, and saw my own pain reflected back at me.
"I know what it's like to carry that weight.
To think you've lost someone and that it's somehow your fault.
But I also know what it's like to get a second chance—to realize that maybe, just maybe, you don't have to live in that darkness forever.
" I squeezed her hand. "You deserve that too.
You deserve to forgive yourself. To let yourself feel something other than guilt. "
We sat in silence after that, the weight of shared grief settling between us like something tangible.
But it wasn't uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that came from understanding—from two people who'd walked through their own versions of hell and somehow found themselves sitting together on the other side of it.
The jungle breathed around us. Somewhere overhead, something with leathery wings cut through the canopy, sending a cascade of leaves drifting down.
The chittering calls of unseen creatures rose and fell in waves, punctuated by the occasional deeper growl that made my hand instinctively move toward my weapon. But I didn't let go of Serna's hand.
Her thumb traced small circles against my palm, an unconscious gesture that sent warmth spreading through my chest. I could feel her pulse through our joined hands—steady, strong, alive. The heat pressed down on us, thick and humid, but somehow her presence made it bearable.
A distant screech echoed through the trees, followed by the crash of something large moving through the undergrowth. Neither of us moved. We just sat there, two soldiers who'd seen too much, lost too much, holding onto each other in the middle of a hostile alien jungle.
It was Serna who finally broke the silence, her voice soft but clear. "Thank you. For telling me that. For... understanding."
I took a breath. This was dangerous territory. This was crossing a line I'd sworn I wouldn't cross. But sitting here in the jungle, with death potentially waiting around every corner, I couldn't bring myself to care about the rules anymore.
"Did you ever think you had a true mate?" I asked instead, the question coming out before I could stop it.
Serna went very still. For a moment, I thought I'd overstepped, that she'd pull away and shut down. But then she said, "For a long time, no. I didn't believe I had one. I thought that part of me had been sacrificed along with everything else when I became Prime."
"And now?"
She held my gaze, and something shifted in her expression—something open and vulnerable and achingly honest.
"Now... I don't know anymore."
The way she looked at me when she said it—the slight softening of her features, the way her pupils dilated, the barely perceptible lean toward me—it was an invitation. A door opening. A chance.
I didn't let myself think. Didn't let myself catalog all the reasons this was a terrible idea. I just moved.
I cupped her face with my free hand, my thumb brushing along her cheekbone, and leaned in slowly—giving her every opportunity to pull away, to stop this before it started.
She didn't.
Our lips met softly at first, tentative, testing. Her breath caught against my mouth, and I felt her hand tighten around mine—a small gasp that sent heat spiraling through my chest. The kiss was gentle, careful, like we were both afraid of breaking something fragile.
But then she made a small sound in the back of her throat—a whimper of need—and leaned into me, and something inside me snapped like a live wire.
I deepened the kiss, my hand sliding into her hair, fingers threading through the dark strands and pulling her closer.
She responded immediately, her free hand coming up to grip my shirt, nails digging in hard enough that I felt it through the fabric.
Her mouth opened under mine, and I slid my tongue against hers, tasting her—salt and something sweet and entirely Serna—and the sensation was like touching live electricity.
The kiss turned hungry, desperate, all the months of restraint and longing and carefully maintained distance pouring into it.
I felt her pulse racing against my palm where I held her face, felt the tremor that ran through her body as I deepened the kiss further, my tongue tangling with hers in a way that made her gasp my name.
She tasted like salt and something sweet, and the feel of her against me—solid and real and here—made my head spin. My heart was hammering so hard I thought it might break through my ribs. I could feel hers racing too, the rhythm wild and uneven, matching the chaos of my own.
This wasn't comfort. This wasn't desperation born of survival. This was choice. This was both of us deciding, in this moment, that we wanted this. Wanted each other. Needed each other with a ferocity that terrified and exhilarated me in equal measure.
I pulled back just enough to breathe, my forehead pressed against hers, both of us gasping. Her eyes were dark, blown wide with desire, her lips swollen from the kiss. My hand was still tangled in her hair, hers still fisted in my shirt, neither of us willing to let go.
"Cullen," she whispered, and my name on her lips sounded like a prayer and a plea all at once.
I leaned back in, unable to resist, and kissed her again—harder this time, more demanding.
She met me with equal intensity, her free hand sliding up my chest to grip my shoulder, pulling me closer until there was barely any space between us.
I could feel the heat radiating from her body, could feel the rapid rise and fall of her breathing, could feel the way she trembled when I traced my thumb along her jawline.
When we finally broke apart, breathing hard with foreheads still touching, Serna's eyes were dark, her pupils blown wide. My hand was still tangled in her hair, hers still fisted in my shirt, neither of us willing to let go just yet.
I leaned my forehead against hers, trying to catch my breath and think through the haze of desire clouding my mind. "We should—"
The words died in my throat as a sound cut through the jungle air. A deep, rumbling roar that seemed to shake the very air around us.
Serna's head snapped up, her body going rigid. "That's not—"
Another sound. Closer. Mechanical. The unmistakable whine of engines cutting through atmosphere.
We both looked up at the same time, our kiss forgotten, our moment shattered. Through the canopy above, through the gaps in the alien leaves, I could see it—a massive shape descending through the clouds, backlit by the planet's twin moons. The outline was unmistakable even from this distance.
A frigate.
"No," Serna breathed, her hand tightening painfully around mine. "No, no, no."
The ship hung there in the sky like a predator, its running lights creating a constellation of red and white against the darkness. And even from here, even without being able to see the markings, I knew.
It was the same ship that had shot us down.
They'd come back to finish the job.