*Jiselle*
The first thing I noticed was the warmth.
Not the blankets, not the sunlight bleeding through the tall window slats–Nate. His body was curved around mine like a second skin, his arm heavy across my waist, the slow rise and fall of his chest anchoring me to something real. Something alive.
The second thing I noticed was the ache. Not pain. Just the sweet, pulsing soreness in places I hadn’t felt in weeks. A reminder of what we’d done. What we’d finally, finally claimed as ours again.
I blinked, the room slowly coming into focus–gold light spilling across the floor, dust motes catching in the beam, the distant sound of morning birds calling beyond the stone walls. His room was quiet, shadowed, and still held the scent of us. Of heat and musk and something wild.
Nate stirred behind me.
His nose nuzzled into the back of my neck, his arm flexing around my middle like instinct. I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just melted into the sensation of his skin on mine.
“Morning,” he mumbled, voice thick and rough from sleep.
I smiled. “Barely.”
He shifted behind me, and I felt the hard press of him against my backside–slow and unmistakable. My breath caught. His hand slid along my waist, fingers dipping just under the hem of his shirt, which I’d pulled on sometime after we collapsed on his couch and crawled into bed.
“You’re wearing my shirt,” he murmured, nuzzling again.
“You’re lucky I’m wearing anything,” I whispered back.
He chuckled low, then his lips brushed the shell of my ear. “Take it off.”
My whole body tingled.
His mouth moved to my neck, placing a kiss just beneath my jaw, then another just below my ear. “Or let me do it.”
I turned to face him, my breath catching at the sight of him so close–hair mussed, eyes half–lidded and dark with something I hadn’t seen in years. Not just hunger. Reverence.
I leaned in, letting my lips brush his, slow and lazy, before deepening the kiss. It was unhurried, molten. His hand found the back of my thigh, dragging it up over his hip until I was straddling him, knees bracketing his hips.
“Jiselle…” he breathed, voice strained.
I kissed him again, grinding against him slowly, teasingly. His hands slid under the shirt, over my bare thighs, up to my hips. His mouth dragged down my jaw to my neck, where he kissed and sucked, slow and claiming. His teeth grazed my skin and I whimpered, rocking against him again, feeling him groan into my throat.
Every inch of him was heat and muscle and restraint, and the way he held me–it wasn’t just need. It was worship.
He shifted, his hands trailing down to cup my ass as I ground down harder. The friction sent a jolt through me, my breath hitching as my nails dug into his shoulders.
“Shit,” he whispered against my collarbone. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
I arched against him, lips parted. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
He laughed softly, the sound vibrating against my chest. Then he rolled us, pinning me beneath him with a kiss that stole what little air I had left. His hands were under my shirt again, tracing the bare skin beneath, thumbs grazing over my ribs. He pulled the shirt up, revealing just enough of my stomach to press a kiss to the center. Then another, lower. His mouth moved downward, trailing kisses along my torso, slow and reverent, until I was trembling.
But just before he reached too low, I gasped and grabbed his wrist. “If you keep going, I’m not going to let you stop.” He stilled, eyes meeting mine.
And for a moment, the teasing was gone.
He leaned up slowly, brushing hair from my face y papric plon apftening
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly. “Not
Successfully unlocked!
I sat up, the sheet pooling around my hips as I cupped his jaw. “I know. I feel it.”
He kissed me again–this time sweet, slow. A promise rather than a demand.
When we finally pulled apart, I curled into him, letting the silence stretch between us. For once, it didn’t feel heavy. It fall
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Chapter 65
full. Like every breath we took carried meaning.
“I meant what I said last night,” I whispered into the space between us.
He ran a thumb along my spine. “Which part?”
“All of it. Especially the ‘let them come.”
His chest rose beneath my cheek. “That was possibly the hottest and most terrifying thing I’ve ever heard.”
I smiled.
But the smile didn’t last long.
The silence between us settled again, and this time, it curled with tension. My hands traced lazy circles on his chest, but my mind was no longer quiet.
“What if they’re right?” I asked finally. “What if I’m something to fear?”
His arms tightened around me.
“Then they should be afraid,” he said. “Not you.”
My throat closed.
“I’m scared, Nate,” I admitted. “Not of dying. But of what happens before that. The power. The Solstice. Whatever I’m becoming.”
“I know,” he said softly. “I’m scared too.”
He sat up, pulling me gently with him until we were both propped against the headboard. His hand never left mine.
“But you’re not alone anymore. Not in any of this. We figure it out together. You and me.”
closed my eyes, leaning my head on his shoulder. “Do you think we’ll make it?”
His answer was immediate. “Yes. Because we have to.”
I wanted to believe that.
I needed to.
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward–it was heavy with things unspoken. Questions we didn’t have answers to. But his arm stayed around me. His heartbeat stayed steady beneath my palm.
A knock shattered it.
Nate stiffened. I pulled away reluctantly, tugging his shirt back down around me as he stood and crossed the room. He opened the door just enough to take the folded slip of parchment that had been slid under it.
He read it. His face darkened.
“What is it?” I asked, pulling the blanket tighter around myself.
He turned slowly.
“It’s from Bastain,” he said. “He wants to see you.”
My chest tightened. “Now?”
Nate nodded. “Alone. Before first bell.”
