Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Tears stream down her cheeks, and silence stretches between us.
And it takes everything inside me not to go to her and wrap her up in my arms. But I know she needs a moment. She needs space. And I refuse to bulldoze over that necessity.
Eventually, as the rain picks up, she takes one slow step toward me. “W-why?” she asks, but her voice is softer now. “Why do you feel like you need to protect me?”
Because you’re mine. Because I am yours.
“You know why,” I say quietly.
Her brows pull together. “No, I don’t.”
“You can feel it.”
She just stands there, looking up at me while the rain runs down her temples and over her lashes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.”
Her pulse jumps, and I move closer until there’s barely any space between us.
“When I’m near you,” I say, “your breathing changes.”
She swallows.
“When I touch you, your body relaxes. When you’re sleeping, your body seeks out mine.”
Her fingers curl at her sides.
“When I pull away, your body tries to close the distance. Blair, you don’t belong to anyone,” I say quietly. “But you belong with me.”
Her eyes flash. “You don’t get to decide who I belong with.”
“I would never decide for you.”
She steps into me then, but it’s not in anger. It’s in frustration and confusion.
And then she kisses me.
There’s no strategy in it. This isn’t a test or manipulation. This is the bond. This is her trying to understand why she’s so drawn to me. This is her not fighting against herself.
The kiss is slow and deep and not at all frantic like I’d expect. I can taste the salt of the rain on her lips, and when our tongues dance against each other, a small moan escapes her throat.
She slides her hands into my hair like she’s trying to hold on to something solid, and I wrap my arms around her waist without thought.
The world narrows. The rain fades. And an arc of electricity flows from her chest and into mine.
I feel the exact second she stops resisting altogether. Her body softens, and her mouth doesn’t hold back as she kisses me hard and deep and with every ounce of need and want and desire that flows inside her veins.
And I kiss her back. Because I can’t not kiss her back. I can’t not hold her body tight against mine. My cock grows hard as moans start to spill from her lips, and she presses her breasts against my chest.
When I finally pull back, she chases my mouth before she realizes I’ve stopped.
Her eyes open slowly.
“Why does it feel like this?” she whispers.
Because we’re fated.
Because I would burn down the world to keep you safe.
Because I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.
“Because you’re not fighting it right now,” I say instead.
She tightens her fingers in my hair. “That’s not it.”
“I know.”
She studies my face like she’s looking for proof I’m lying. “You’re telling me my whole life is a lie,” she says quietly.
“I’m telling you it might not be what you think.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“I’m a lot of things, Blair, but I’m not wrong. Not about this.”
The rain intensifies. Her body presses closer again, and I wrap my arms around her and pull her tight against my chest.
She feels safe here with me. Not owned. Not controlled. Not trapped. Safe.
Her breath catches, and she pulls back like she’s been burned. “This isn’t real,” she says.
“It’s real, Blair.”
Her eyes narrow. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m yours.”
You are. The truth sits heavy on my tongue, but I try to hold it back. I hold it back until I can’t. “You are mine, Blair. You are mine, and I am yours.”
“You can’t know that,” she whispers.
“I do. And so do you.”
She stares at me like she’s standing at the edge of something enormous. If she accepts it, everything changes. Her entire life, everything she was raised to believe, gets flipped on its head.
The rain soaks through her shirt, and she steps back slowly.
“You don’t get to decide my destiny,” she says.
“I’m not,” I reply. “I just want you to see where she’s trying to point you clearly.”
She doesn’t respond, but with tears streaming down her face, she turns and runs back toward the cabin. There’s no anger or hatred or even fear pulsing through her veins. Just something dangerously close to recognition.
She doesn’t have the term for it—fated mates.
But her body does.
And her heart does too.
Blair
I don’t look back at him as I run through the front door of the cabin.
If I look at him, I’ll remember the way his mouth feels against mine. The way the world goes quiet whenever he pulls me close. The way my body softens whenever he’s near.
I take the stairs too quickly. My wet shoes slip once on the wood, and I grab the railing to steady myself.