Raw Emotion
Aviana
He pressed his lips to mine with an intensity that felt like desperation, like he was clinging to the only breath that could save him. His kiss was urgent, overwhelming—too much. Too real. A quiet moan escaped me before I could swallow it down, betraying me, and I hated that I felt him respond to it, deepening the kiss, like he had found something to hold onto.
And maybe that was the problem.
Love had never come without a price. Every time I reached for it, I was reminded of what I lacked—what I could never be. The last time I loved someone, I was told I was broken and I had never been enough.
So why was I letting him pull me under now?
Just as suddenly as he began, he tore himself away, his breath ragged. His movements were sharp, almost pained, like my touch had burned him.
“Little Bird…” His voice was low, thick with regret.
The sound of it rattled something loose inside me, a frayed thread I was afraid to pull. It brushed against old wounds, things I had buried deep. I knew that voice—somewhere in the fog of my memories, I knew it. But no matter how hard I tried to hold onto it, it slipped through my fingers, leaving me with nothing but the aching certainty that I should have recognized him.
“Nightshade, please… don’t stop.” The words left me before I could stop them. A plea. A confession. A mistake.
What the hell was wrong with me?
This man had kidnapped me, held me captive—and yet, I was the one asking for more? I should have felt disgusted, terrified. Instead, there was something else curling inside me, something I refused to name.
“Don’t think right now, Little Bird.” His voice was smooth, knowing, too damn confident. “I can see it—every emotion battling inside you.”
I hated that he could see me when I couldn’t even see myself.
But worse than that—I hated that, for a moment, I didn’t want to run.
His words stung, a reminder of how easily he could read me, while I remained in the dark—quite literally.
“Let me see you, Nightshade,” I demanded softly.
“I can’t let you do that. Not right now.”
“Why? Do you have scars? Are you… really ugly or something?”
His chuckle was soft, almost bitter. “It’s not about how I look. You kissed me multiple times without knowing what’s under the mask. That tells me you don’t care about my face.”
“Then why hide?” I pushed, my frustration bubbling over.
“If you knew who I was, I couldn’t protect you, Little Bird. I’d be putting you in even more danger.”
“I’ve felt the strength in your arms, the sharpness of your jaw beneath that mask. I know you’re strong enough to protect me.”
His voice lowered, an edge of vulnerability creeping in. “Is that what you want? For me to protect you?”
I tilted my chin defiantly, my tone laced with sass. “Did you give me much of a choice, Nightshade?”
“No. No, I didn’t give you a choice. And I’m going to start making things right.”
“What do you mean by that?” My voice wavered as I instinctively stepped back, my hands trembling as I ripped off the blindfold. He froze, scrambling to pull his mask back into place, but not before I caught a fleeting glimpse of his face—wild eyes, tousled hair, and something deeply human in his expression. Vulnerability, maybe? Or guilt? Was he someone I know?
“I know everything about you, Little Bird,” he said softly, his voice breaking just enough to give away the weight he carried. “You’ve been hurt too many times. Taken advantage of. And it stops now. I won’t let anyone harm what’s mine.”
“Yours?” I echoed, my voice cracking with disbelief. “What makes you think I’m yours?”
He took a shaky step toward me, the distance between us charged with emotions I couldn’t name. “You were mine the moment you stepped out of that car, Little Bird.”
“I don’t understand,” I whispered, my throat tightening as I searched his face for answers. “You’ve… you’ve been here this entire time?”
He crossed the space between us, his hoodie wasn’t placed back atop his head, revealing disheveled hair and the kind of raw vulnerability that made my heart ache. Gently, he took my hand, his movements almost hesitant, and pressed my index finger firmly against his chest. His voice was rough, filled with a kind of desperation I didn’t expect.
“You’ve been here,” he said, tapping my finger against his chest as if the act alone could convince me. “In my heart. For years. It’s only fair that I go wherever you go, Little Bird.”
The trees felt like they were closing in on us, his words wrapping around me, pulling me into the storm of emotions he seemed barely able to contain.
I swallowed hard, my throat tightening at the intensity in his gaze. His words held a weight I wasn’t ready to carry, pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe.
“Nightshade…” I whispered, unsure of what to say, unsure of what to do with the raw emotion radiating from him.
For the first time since meeting him, he looked… tired. Not just physically, but something deeper, like he was fighting a battle he never expected to lose. And I was at the center of it.
His grip on my hand loosened, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a slow, deliberate motion before he finally let go.
“That’s enough for today,” he said, his voice quieter now, resigned. “You’ve done what I asked. Faced what I asked you to face. I won’t keep you any longer.”
Relief and something else—something unsettling—washed over me in equal measure. He was letting me go. Just like that.
I expected him to linger, to press one last touch against my skin, to say something cryptic before vanishing. But instead, he simply turned. No hesitation. No second glance. He just… walked away.
The sound of his steady footsteps faded into the rustling trees. I stood there, watching him disappear, my fingers curling against my palm, as if still feeling the ghost of his touch.
And for reasons I couldn’t explain, the distance between us felt heavier than all the times he’d held me captive in his arms.