Page 118 of Twisted Vows

She shakes her head and goes back to scraping cutlery against her plate, but the question stays with me. She might have taken my words as a joke, but they ring true. I try to picture my life without her, without that meeting on the road or in her classroom, and I come up blank.

“Maybe some people just can’t climb out of the dark.”

She’s muttering more to herself, so I shrug. “Maybe that’s where we belong.”

She glances up at me from her plate, searching for something. The possibility of her not finding whatever anchor or man she needs in me right now downright scares me.

The thought lands like a blow, and I drop my fork, which makes us both flinch. She blinks hard, stands up, and starts grabbing plates.

“Just leave it,” I say.

“It’s fine. I can…”

“Leave it, Sophia.” I snap without meaning to.

She freezes, nods, and gives me that shaky smile people wear when the decision’s already made.

My chest squeezes with…panic? Grief? Who knows. Everything about her feels fragile tonight.

I want to ask her a million questions. Where did she go today? What’s hiding behind her eyes? Why she looks at me like she’s already gone. But I don’t. I’m not brave enough. I’ve stared down death more times than I can count, but I can’t bring myself to ask if she’s leaving.

All I say is, “You did good tonight.”

She laughs, but it’s soft, almost bitter. “Cooking or waiting for you?”

“Both.”

Her eyes catch the light, glassy for half a second before she schools her face and lifts her chin. “Go shower,” she says briskly. “You smell like gasoline and trouble.”

Trouble. Her favorite word for me. Still accurate. The way she says it now, though, isn’t gentle or apologetic. It’s steady and familiar. Like she’s learned how to embrace that part of me.

Arya hovers in the doorway, waiting to clear the table. I dismiss the maid with a wave, and she exits with a polite nod. As Sophia and I stay seated, I notice things I wouldn’t have before.

Like the absence of the usual worry and fear in her eyes. The woman sitting across from me isn’t the same one who first arrived at the compound, scared and shrinking. I don’t know when the transformation happened, but something has flipped inside her. Suddenly, she locks eyes with me.

That look—loving yet resigned—hits hard.

My throat closes, and blood roars in my ears. Is this her way of saying goodbye? My heart stops as she shifts her chair close enough for me to feel her warmth. Her gentle hand finds my jaw. Then she kisses me, slowly at first. She tastes like wine.

My body moves before my mind catches up, which is how I know I’m already in trouble. This woman has me completely. With my hands on her waist, I pull her closer, desperate. Every nerve in my body begs for her and curses me for needing her this much. She kisses passionately, her fingers trembling.

She tugs at my shirt until my buttons scatter to the floor like shell casings. Those are collateral damage I’ll deal with later, whenever I get the chance. Her shaky but determined hands move up my chest.

Once my shirt falls away, her fingers trace every scar. She buries herself in my arms, overwhelming my senses with wax, basil, and her sweet perfume. I could drown in it…in her. And the worst part? I wouldn’t even fight it. I’d just let her take me under and give myself over to her mercy.

My responding touch is rough, betraying everything that’s festering under my skin.

Fear that this might be the last time. Hunger for her after too many nights apart. I’m supposed to keep it together, to step away from her. Heck, I’ll be spending tomorrow hunting her father just like I did today. I don’t deserve this.

But I don’t have the strength to retreat either. And it hits me, right here, that she’s got me bad. I’d gladly give her anything she asks for. Even if it means war.

She says nothing, though. Only moans and gasps as I remove her top over her head and unhook her bra.

We stagger toward the bedroom, finding the bed waiting and the sheets cool as we fall onto it. Her steady palm rests over my heart. Too steady, considering everything is about to come undone. For once, I’ve hidden nothing from her.

Unable to resist, I lean in, and our lips meet with a burning, desperate fervor. My hands explore her body—the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip, the softness of her skin under my calloused fingers. I draw her close like I want to brand myself onto her…so she’ll never forget me if she leaves.

I bite her lower lip, thrust my tongue into her mouth, and pull her closer. Her breasts press to my chest as I reach one hand down to squeeze her waist without asking or negotiating. If I can’t make her stay with words, I’ll make her feel it.