Page 92 of Fuse

I tick a tight nod. “Just like that.”

Her lips do a weird little dance. She looks ready to laugh at me or spit on me but instead rocks her head back with more intense scrutiny. “You love her that much?”

I square my shoulders. Firm my jaw. “I love her that much.”

My declaration seems to flip a switch inside her. She’s no longer quiet and contemplative but sure and decisive, bringing on the words that are the gut punch I’ve prayed for—but a punch nonetheless.

“Then we have a deal, darling.”

And here come’s fate’s newest practical joke. Because suddenly, even though I’ve just entered the world’s shittiest prison again, I’m flying completely free. Into miles of cyan summer skies in a goddess’s gorgeous eyes—only they’re sparkling with a thousand liquid stars too. In the expanse above them, there are deep hills of sorrow. In the lips below them, a twist of despair reigns.

But I can’t think about the despair.

I need to pour my mind and heart into soaking up Emmalina’s love. Into savoring my last seconds of freedom. Into reveling in the warmth and light of her kiss, no matter how violently she lunges at me, wrapping herself around me, desperately repeating one word against me. “No. No. No. No!”

I fold her against me, gashing a glare at Faline to dare her to stop me, and then bend myself around and over, trying to press as much of her scent and softness and love directly into me. Every fucking second. Every damn moment. Every breath and sob and sigh and memory I can possibly soak up, taking her inside as deeply as I can.

“You can’t, you big ox. You won’t. You can’t. You won’t!”

At least it’s not no—though I refrain from wasting time on the sarcasm. Humor isn’t going to make this easier. Fuck; nothing’s going to make this easier.

“Baby,” I finally utter, brushing my lips through the silk of her hair. “I have to.”

“No. No.” Her face is a shimmer of solid tears. Her voice is a crack of heartbroken grief. I don’t soothe any of it away, pretty damn certain mine is exactly the same. “No, no, no, no!”

I consume her cheeks with my palms, yanking her face up for another press of my lips. “I love you.”

“I hate you.” She wraps herself around me with shuddering force. Beats her fists against my back, right then left then right then left, a relentless mortar fire of misery. “I hate you, Reece Richards, and I don’t forgive you for this!”

I gulp hard as my torso continues to be a war zone and my heart ignites with unending adoration.

This. Here. Now. Her pure fire. Her searing spirit. The stark beauty of so much love, she’s brave enough to hate me with it as well. Strong enough to sob out her fury against my chest, baring the center of her soul as boldly as her pale, shaking body. Naked in every form…exposed until she’s fully stripped me. Fuck. Fuck. How have I come to deserve her? Why does the world call me its hero when it’s so damn clear from where my true strength surges…from whom it surges?

This. Here. Now.

She overwhelms me. Overcomes me. Tears me apart. Caves me in. She’s my star, my sun, my moon, my sky. The lightning of my existence. The more of my world.

The more she’ll always give me, no matter what lies ahead. No matter how much pain I’ll endure, experiments I’ll survive, or solitude I’ll bear. Because of her, I’ll never really be alone anymore.

She needs to know that. I need to tell her. I need to show her. And I try, so damn desperately, pulling her close and tight until our lips are meshed again. And she sighs into my mouth. And I groan into hers. And I take her. And taste her. And breathe her in, colliding our tongues in need and our lips in love, until an impatient boot stamp breaks the air, forcing us apart. Faline is quickly becoming an unhappy camper. Like I fucking care. But I have to care.

I keep Emma clasped close for several more long seconds, one hand at her chin and the other at her nape, cherishing the last tangible tangle of our breaths. Into that precious space, I order her in a rasp, “Don’t you dare forgive me, woman. Not ever.”

She grabs the back of my head. Impales me with the aqua iridescence of her gaze, replete with all the meaning of what I’ve just said. Of what I’ve just pleaded, in the form of that fervent command. “Never,” she whispers. “For as long as I live.”

“Good.” I gulp hard, so fucking hard, but the effort is useless. Tears burn the corners of my eyes, caught by her fingertips as she drags her hands around to my jaw. The second she curls her nails in, I swear there are pin-sized jolts of bright-blue light, but I reject the impression as a residual effect of her flared gaze. “Good,” I repeat, focusing fully on her again—and the soul I fight to see past the thick sheen coating her eyes. “Because I’ll never stop not forgiving you, either.”

She drops her head in a small nod, trying to use the motion to pull away. The words, standing proxy for the three others we’ve said so many times to each other but don’t dare say now, are the closest thing we’re going to get to an easy goodbye.

Which becomes pure hell anyway.

As soon as four of Faline’s goons surround me and jerk me away.

As soon as four more march around and pull Emma back too.

As soon as I’m put into new shackles and led past another steel door.

Which Faline shuts behind us, completely slicing Emma’s sobs from the air.