Chapter 45 Kane
We walk side by side along the lake. We don’t speak, but there isn’t a need to. We’re both content to exist in this silence together.
The occasional brush of her hand against mine is our only physical connection. Yet the barest touch sends licks of heat raging through me. Igniting my darkness every time. Desperate to break through my cold exterior and melt into her.
Eventually, we come to a stretch of stone where the promenade slopes down towards the lake, and Jasmine heads towards it, perching on the wall and casting a brief look over her shoulder at me.
That one look is all that’s needed.
I follow her silent command, sitting beside her on the cold stone, close enough to greedily steal more of her warmth.
The lake glimmers faintly under the moonlight. It’s quiet. Peaceful.
Even though my darkness claws inside of me.
It wants to feel more of her, to feel more of this. Just having her breathing beside me—existing—is all it takes to ignite the craving.
Then my phone vibrates, again. It has since I flitted to the town, but I refuse to acknowledge it.
But now, in the peaceful calm, the sound is too harsh, causing Jasmine to glance at my jacket with one raised brow.
I sigh, retrieving it from my pocket, and staring down at the screen.
Seventeen new messages: Julien, Ezekial, and Sai.
Jasmine leans in, so close… I’m distracted by her heat again, how it sinks into me, somehow igniting and soothing the dark at once.
“Is that them?” she asks softly.
I nod, pretending to read the messages, anything to stop me from touching her.
“They’re worried you’ve made me cry again?” she gasps, reading the message aloud, sounding… upset, and a little angry. She sits back with a huff.
As I’m about to put the phone away, she says, “We should send them a selfie.” And smiles.
I stare, enamoured by her, how her eyes seem to blaze even in the dark, her smile only tempting me closer.
But I also stare because I do not understand.
“A selfie?” she repeats, her smile fading. “A picture of us—together,” she says, each part a little slower than the last, but I still appear blank. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
Her voice is on the edge of laughter, and I wonder—if I stay like this—if she’ll take pity on me and maybe let me hear it fully.
Instead, her smile widens, and I decide that is also an excellent response.
“That’s okay, I’ll show you.” She keeps smiling, erasing all my worries and reigniting all my darkest desires with that single look. “Move over.”
Before I can process the command, she shifts closer, then closer, until she’s angled across me, thighs sliding over mine as she settles into my lap sideways. Not straddling. Not quite facing me either.
Her legs drape over mine, her feet resting upon the stone, her side pressed to my chest, her back curled slightly against my arm.
She fits so well.
Her arm hooks loosely around my shoulders, the other reaching for my phone as she holds it out in front of us and her heat wraps around me.
I decide… I like selfies.
“Smile, Kane.”
There’s a flash. My darkness flares. I flinch.
“Okay, terrible,” she says with a quiet laugh, already scrolling. “Let’s try again.”
Now I know what a selfie is, my darkness rescinds, and I’m more prepared. But even the second shot catches me watching her more than the camera.
Then another. And another.
She flicks through them with a soft shake of her head, laughing under her breath.
Her weight shifts as she leans forwards to take another. Each time she moves to get a better angle, she somehow ends up closer, until her hair is brushing my jaw, her breath warming my neck.
My hand moves to her waist, steadying her, feeling her—she doesn’t pull away. The heat of her seeps into me. Brands me. I feel it through every layer between us.
Then her jacket slides down.
Just enough to reveal her shoulder.
And suddenly, I’m no longer thinking about the photo.
Her shoulder is bare, smooth, right there in front of me.
And that’s all it takes. A sliver of skin, one exposed curve, and my darkness snaps to attention like it’s been waiting—watching—just for this.
The temptation is too much.
She doesn’t notice. She’s still focused on the phone, lifting it slightly higher.
But I’m not looking at the screen, I’m staring at that exposed strip of skin like it’s the only thing in the world.
My grip tightens at her waist, and I lean in.
Her heat engulfs me as my face lowers, inhaling her scent, mouth so close… Slowly, I brush my lips against her shoulder.
She stiffens, just for a second, maybe she thinks it’s an accident. We are close, so close.
So I do it again.
Soft, small brushes of my lips that bring me closer to madness with every sweep.
Her arm lowers, but I won’t let her pull away. My hold on her waist is secure, concrete, and my mouth trails slower, closer, along the curve of her neck, over her thumping pulse. Tasting her with soft touches, the barest swipe of my tongue, a nudge of teeth.
“Kane…” she breathes, hinging on a tremble.
And I want more.
Our faces are so close now that I see every fleck of colour in her eyes. The light. The dark. The heat.
Her breath catches, lips parting like she’s about to say something, like she should. But doesn’t—can’t.
I let my mouth hover a fraction from hers, just close enough for her to feel it, close enough that every ounce of me aches.
My darkness is coiled so tightly. Waiting. Wanting. Yearning.
“Smile, Jasmine,” I murmur, brushing my lips over the corner of her mouth. “You’re making me look bad.”
She lets out a shaky laugh, and I have to close my eyes, compose myself. Everything is so soft, so sweet, so warm, and she’s so utterly unaware of it. Of what she’s doing to me by merely existing.
When she lifts the phone again, I move in. Not to kiss her, just to let my lips graze her jaw.
Once. Twice. Again. Right at the curve where her throat meets.
My fingers trace careful, lazy patterns over her waist, edging onto her stomach. Every touch is slow and possessive.
The phone shakes in her hand. “Kane,” she breathes again, lower, deeper.
My mouth stills against her throat, my jaw clenched.
Every time she says my name, it’s like the very first time. A sinful prayer. An alluring trigger.
“Keep taking them,” I murmur, my voice rougher, darker. My lips brush the shell of her ear. “You can do it.”
She shivers. The darkness in me rises because it wants to answer that call. It wants more.
Wants her to tremble.
And I give in, just a little, pressing another light kiss to the corner of her mouth. Enough to steal her breath. Enough for the briefest taste of what I want.
And it nearly undoes me.
I pull back, I have to. But that too was a mistake because now I see her face in full, up-close. She’s flushed, eyes glittering like garnet jewels, lips parted, staring at me like she’s hungry.
“We cannot send those.” Her voice is delicious. Soft, raspy, needy—and I did that.
Her eyes dart to the pictures on the phone, and back to me for an answer.
“Send them,” I order, voice slipping into the dark as the shadows curl around us. Not asking. Not teasing.
She bites her lip and my eyes snap to it. That lip. Those teeth. That mouth.
Sin, right in front of me.
She lowers the phone between us, and I see it. She’s sent them. She listened.
Such a good immaru.
“Turn it off.”
She follows my instruction perfectly, her fingers moving fast over the screen as we watch it turn black.
I know the exact moment my unit sees those images. There’s a sharp tremor in our bond, a hard tug, a fluctuation in the steady, consistent connection—that’s their response.
Surprise. Hunger. And something else I can’t quite name.
I reinforce my mental wall, blocking them completely, because my darkness is tired of waiting. With her held in my lap, lips parted, eyes glazed—we’ve waited long enough.
I trail my fingers over her soft, flushed cheek. Careful. Gentle. Worshipping.
“Good immaru,” I murmur. I praise.
Her pupils blow wide, streaks of black bleeding into scarlet.
We have her.
“You need to make a choice.” I try to keep the bite of darkness hidden from my voice, but fail. “Back to the apartment, where the others will be, ending our time alone.” She frowns, mouth parting to speak, to reject—I place my thumb over her lips. “Or... we continue.”
Her eyes flare, bright scarlet smouldering against the woven lines of black.
Temptation incarnate.
I brush the pad of my thumb over her lip tenderly, so slowly—and the red of her gaze darkens. But I need her words, I need her to tell me exactly what she wants.
“Words, immaru.”
She closes her eyes, takes a deep, steadying breath, then whispers, “I want more.”
She’s in my arms, against my chest, the position familiar to how I once held her after our first training session. When I apologised.
But now, I’m kissing her as my darkness greedily wraps around us and we flit. I fight to hold it back, I just need her to slip into my touch a little more before I release—
Her body tenses, and I immediately still. When her hold around my neck starts to slip away, cold terror slices through me.
Has she changed her mind?
“We’re at the house?” She sounds concerned.
No. I can’t lose her now. I need her.
I try to kiss her again, pull her back under, but she leans away.
I growl softly. So taut, barely restrained. But even now, I’ll listen, I’ll always listen to her. Maybe she’s truly regretting her decision.
“We can go back to them.” I try to keep my voice level, but the suggestion makes my chest tighten, my darkness spike.
I want her.
I don’t want to share.
Not yet.
Let her be mine, let her choose me, just this once.
She studies me carefully, her chest heaving as she considers my words, my tone, surely feeling my desperation.
Then, there’s a soft pull at the corner of her lips. “You want me all to yourself?”
“Yes.” I don’t hesitate. There’s no reason to. No reason to hide, not anymore.
Never again.
Her lips part due to it, at my abruptness, my clear need. I lean in again, slightly hesitant, brushing my mouth over hers with one gentle caress.
“Please,” I murmur, and my darkness echoes it.
She shudders, her fingers slipping back around my neck. “Well, when you beg so nicely—”
I’m kissing her again, hard and desperate, stealing her words, taking her breath, consuming everything she’ll give me.
I feel our darknesses rising, reaching out to one another. Entangling.
We’ve flitted to a room, it could be mine, I don’t know. Don’t care. I’ve spent so little time here since it was built. But it’s a room, with a bed, and right now, that’s all I need.
I lean down with her still in my arms, placing her onto the edge of the mattress, but I never stop kissing her. And she never stops kissing me.
Take her, now. Claim her. She’s ours—
I tear myself away, take several large strides back.
Jasmine’s left panting on the bed, staring up at me. Her eyes wide with confusion as I take another step back, then another, until my back’s against the door.
She frowns, then shifts as if to follow me.
“Stay,” I grit out. I can only manage that.
Her frown deepens, but she must see something that makes her listen. She lowers back down onto the edge.
My hands curl into fists, fingers wrapping tightly around my thumb, making the stones of my ring dig in, trying to ground myself to my physical darkness.
Try to quieten the voice.
There. Take her. Make her ours.
And still… I stare. Because how could I resist? What being could?
None.
I’m fixated on the angelic temptation in my unholy presence.
Her jacket has gone, and she’s just sitting there waiting. Flush, breathless, in that teasing little white dress. The dainty sleeves have fallen off her shoulders, her skin so smooth, kissed by the pale moonlight, and she’s staring at me.
That beguiling look, that enticing body, that pleading silence, and the hints of her emotions. The specks of her excitement, her need and fear.
That is the most dangerous emotion of all.
I should close my eyes, look away, but I’m not strong enough. Not anymore.
Everything about her is pure temptation. So sinful. So—
Ours.
“Kane?” she whispers.
It’s like a sledge hammer to thick ice. Her soft voice cracks, ruptures, any strength I tried to forge.
I clench my hand into a tighter fist, feeling the ring bite harder into my palm.
“My darkness…” I try to say, voice strained and curled with the dark. “That part of me… it can be…”
Too much. Too fast.
Possessive. Controlling. Obsessive.
And once it’s had a taste—once I’ve had a taste…
“I don’t want you to regret this,” I manage through my tense jaw.
Her lips part. There’s a soft hitch in her breathing as she listens and stares.
Then her fiery eyes sharpen with focus, her voice clear and steady. “I want this. I want you. I won’t regret it.”
The words slam into me.
I want you.
Me.
My control frays. The ice fractures further. The darkness inside surges.
She wants us. Claim her. Give. Take. Ours. Now.
But it seems she’s not done riling my beast. She tilts her head, her soft hair tumbling over one shoulder in a soft wave, then she delivers a slow, dangerous smile.
“Especially the dark parts,” she murmurs in a delicate, teasing rasp. “I want to see what this dangerous idimmu…” She leans back, and the skirt of her dress rises, revealing more of her smooth, creamy thighs. “Will do with the immaru in his bed.”
All I can do is stare.
“Unless you’re scared,” she murmurs—inside my head.
Speaking straight to me.
To it.
Ours.
My restraint shatters.
The realm descends upon us, and her eyes dart around the darkening space before snapping back to me. She swallows.
I push off the wall, closing the distance with precise, steady steps and begin unbuttoning my shirt. Her eyes latch onto the action, studying my fingers intently, one slow button at a time.
When it falls to the ground, her gaze climbs back up, locking onto my chest.
She’s never seen me like this. Not clearly.
Her eyes track the pattern that marks me. The lines scorched into my skin when the darkness finally settled. When I became immortal.
In the centre of my sternum, a mass of dark lines forming a circle. Spidery limbs burst from it, reaching across my chest, to my shoulders, along my ribs, the tips ending at my pelvic bone.
I rarely look at it—rarely let anyone else see.
But she stares at it, studies it, and then gazes up at me with those burning eyes burnt with black, swollen lips parted on a breath she never quite managed, and I devour her.
Her eyes, her face, her throat, her legs, revealing more of those thighs I’m desperate to touch, to lick, to bite, as when she shifts—
She’s shuffling back. Away from me.
Like she’s trying to… run.
Like she’s… scared.
My darkness purrs deep inside my chest, it sounds like a growl but I know the difference. She doesn’t. And that only makes her eyes grow wider. Darker.
And I smile.