Page 35 of Dominate

Zane stops just inside the door while I clear yesterday’s clothes off the chair.

“You can put your stuff there.”

He takes off his hoodie and folds it before setting it down. I look at the laundry I’ve just kicked under the bed.

“Trying to make me look bad?”

“Should I throw it on the floor?”

“Now you’re getting it.”

He smiles, but when I pull back the covers, he stays beside the chair.

I hold out my hand.

“Come on, Butler. You can overthink it in the morning.”

He takes it.

Nothing happens. We don’t push the boundaries I set on the mat. We just lie there in the dark, the city humming faintly through the thin walls.

Zane curls his large frame around mine. He wraps an arm heavy and secure over my waist, pulling me back flush against his chest. He buries his face in the crook of my neck. I feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over my skin.

He holds onto me like he is terrified I will disappear the moment he lets go. I cover his hand with mine, lacing our fingers together in the dark.

His breathing evens out. The rigid tension leaves his spine. Within ten minutes, he is deeply, soundly asleep.

I lie awake for a long time, listening to the steady, rhythmic thump of his heart against my back. For the first time in three weeks, the ache in my chest eases.

When dawn finally breaks, casting pale blue light through the slats of my blinds, I turn my head.

Zane is still here. His face is relaxed, stripped of the armor he wears for the world. He looks younger. He looks at peace.

I watch the morning light catch the gold in his dark hair. I stay beside him.

This is real. This is actually happening.

And for the first time in twenty-one days, I finally feel like I can breathe.

11

ZANE

Sunlight cuts through the room. It slices across the mattress on the floor in thin, dusty stripes, piercing the cheap plastic blinds covering a single window. Dust motes dance in the illuminated beams, swirling in the disturbed air. I open my eyes. The ceiling above me bears a faint water stain shaped roughly like an anvil.

This isn’t my penthouse. This isn’t the sterile chrome and glass of Ironside MMA. There’s no custom furniture, no skyline view of the city, no trophies gleaming under recessed lighting.

Then the warmth registers.

A heavy, solid heat presses flush against my spine. A broad arm drapes over my waist, anchoring me to the tangled sheets. A knee slots perfectly behind mine.

I take a shallow breath, his scent triggering a cascade of memories.

Micah.

Last night crashes over me like a collapsed dam. The empty gym. The confession tearing its way out of my throat, raw and bleeding. I spoke the words aloud. I surrendered the heaviest secret I have carried for fourteen years, handing it over to the man I’m scheduled to destroy in six weeks.

Traffic rumbles in the alley below. A siren wails a few blocks away. The world continues spinning on its axis. The apocalypse fails to arrive.