Page 102 of Immune

It’s his restraint. It’s the fact that he wants it but still waits.

My hand leaves his shirt just long enough to drag the bandana down beneath my chin, because I’ve apparently chosen this very moment to lose my entire mind.

Then I yank him down, his mouth hitting mine with an eerie accuracy, and the whole world fades to quiet in the most violent way possible.

There’s nothing sweet about it. Sweet is for before. Sweet is for window rain and school buses and yards that still smell green. This is frenzied. It’s desperate. A collision I’ve started and am still not ready for.

Kaito makes a low sound against my mouth, barely there and more breath than voice. His hands lift, then they stop in the air beside me like he’s afraid even the wrong kind of wanting will ruin something. Like it’ll bruise something.

I hate that, too.

So I kiss him harder, because I’ve apparently chosen death by poor decisions and wet Alpha.

His mouth is warm against mine. Rainwater drips from his hair onto my cheek. Burning wood and warm flannel fill my senses, wrapping around me until my Omega stops pacing and goes utterly still.

Not owned.

Not trapped.

Just… still.

And that scares me more than any Zed ever has.

My fingers tighten in his shirt. His body leans closer, but not enough to crowd. He lets me set the angle, the pressure, and the pace, even though I can feel the force he’s using to hold himself back.

I want.

The word spreads hot and horrible through me. I want his hands. I want his scent. I want the quiet place that happens when he’s between me and danger but not between me and the exit.

Wait. No.

The thought washes over me like cold water and I tear my mouth away from his, shoving myself back. The movement pulls at my injured arm, sending pain spearing through my shoulder. Good. Pain is useful. Pain has never once tried to kiss me in a ruined arcade and made me question my entire life, personality, and spirituality.

Kaito stops instantly and not a second later. Not after one more kiss. And not after a growl or a grip or an Alpha demand.

Instantly.

His hands lift higher, palms open and away from me. His body grows still so fast it almost hurts to look at. My chest heaves for air, and his does too. Rain hammers the broken doorwaybehind him. My mouth burns where his lips touched, my scent is a catastrophe, and every single nerve inside my body is awake and screaming for things I blatantly refuse to translate.

Kaito’s voice is rough when he speaks. “Okay.”

That word again.

I hate it. I hate how much safety he packs into just two syllables. I hate that he didn’t make me fight for things to stop.

That kiss was dangerous, and that matters more.

I step back until my shoulder hits the opposite wall, knife already in hand. I don’t even remember drawing it, but Kaito doesn’t look at the blade. He looks at me. Not my mouth, not my body, but me. Which is worse. So much worse.

“It’s just biology,” I say.

My voice is too sharp. Too loud.

No one in the hallway speaks. Sweet. Awesome. Love that. Let’s just all enjoy the public execution of my fucking dignity.

Kaito nods once. “If that’s what you need it to be.”

I shove my bandana back in place as I bare my teeth. “That’s exactly what it is.”