Page 33 of Dominate

The anger in my chest softens. I hate how quickly it happens. I hate how easily his fractured voice dismantles my defenses.

“I told you I wouldn’t pressure you,” I say quietly.

“You’re not. That’s the problem.” Zane laughs, a bitter, hollow sound that barely reaches his eyes. “You gave me space. Complete silence. And I realized the only person keeping me locked inside that closet is me. Nobody else.”

He ducks through the ropes.

He climbs into the ring with me. We stand across the canvas from each other, taking the exact positions we held under the bright arena lights three weeks ago. But there are no officials here. No crowds. No legacy hanging over his head. Just a standard gym and the heavy midnight air.

“I have never told anyone this,” Zane whispers. “Not out loud. Not ever.”

I hold my ground. I wait.

“I’m—” The word sticks in his throat. He chokes on it. His fingers curl into fists at his sides, trembling so violently I can see the vibration from ten feet away. He forces his eyes open. Meets my gaze head-on. “I’m gay.”

The words hit the air. The ceiling doesn’t cave in. The floor doesn’t open up.

Zane lets out a broken exhale, his shoulders dropping two full inches. “I’ve known since I was fourteen. And I’ve spent half my life pretending I’m not. Because my father would have disowned me. Because Ironside would burn me at the stake. Because I was terrified that if anyone found out the truth, every single thing I worked for would disappear.”

His eyes are wet. The ambient light catches the moisture welling on his lower lashes.

“But then I met you,” he continues, his voice thick. “And you are just… out. You exist like it’s nothing. Like it’s easy.”

“It wasn’t easy,” I tell him, the memory of my own fractured family flashing behind my eyes. “It cost me my father.”

“I know.” Zane takes a ragged step closer. “I know, and that makes it infinitely worse. You lost everything, and you still did it. You stood in the fire. I’ve been too scared to lose a damn thing, so I lost myself instead.”

I stay where I am. I’ve spent months calling him arrogant. Now he can barely get the words out. And he came here. He came here in the middle of the night to tell me the truth.

I step forward. I move deliberately, giving him every opportunity to retreat. To put his armor back on and walk out the door.

He doesn’t run. He holds his ground, watching me approach with a desperate hunger in his golden eyes.

I stop less than a foot away. The scent of him washes over me—no expensive cologne tonight, just soap.

“What do you want?” I ask. “Right now, in this moment. What do you actually want, Zane?”

“I want to stop being afraid.” His gaze searches my face, mapping the scar on my eyebrow, tracing the curve of my jaw. “I want to know what it feels like to kiss someone without hating myself the next morning. I want⁠—”

He stops. His throat clicks as he swallows hard.

“I want you,” he whispers. “I don’t know how to want you and still be me. But I can’t stop. And I’m so tired of trying.”

I close the distance.

This time, the kiss is entirely different. There’s no blood. There’s no violence. No frantic, panicked scramble against a sterile medic room wall.

My mouth meets his, and it is a question he answers instantly. His lips part, soft and yielding. I slide my hands up his chest, feeling his pounding heart beneath the cotton hoodie, tracing the solid line of his neck until my fingers tangle in his thick, dark hair.

Zane melts into me. He makes a sound that is half-groan, half-sob, his arms wrapping around my waist with a crushing, desperate strength. He holds me like a drowning man clinging to debris in open water.

“I’ve got you,” I murmur against his mouth. I kiss the corner of his lips. I kiss his jaw. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

His hands shake as they slide up my bare back, tracing the dip of my spine, learning the texture of my skin. He touches me like he cannot believe he has permission. The reverence in his fingertips sends a shockwave of heat straight to my core.

We end up on the canvas.

I guide him down slowly, following him to the mat. My knees bracket his hips. He lies flat on his back, looking up at me with eyes so wide and vulnerable it makes my chest ache. I lean down, pressing my lips to the hollow of his throat, right over that frantic pulse point.