She smiles, eyes soft. "Then don't hold back next time," she says.
I know I won't.
I exhale slowly, letting the last remnants of tension bleed out with my breath. Then I reach for my pants, pulling them back on, buckling my belt. My gaze drifts to the window.
Under the moonlight, the garden glows, new blossoms pushing up through the soil.
I smile. "Those are beautiful."
Sage follows my gaze. When she sees them, she chuckles softly. "Seems like nature liked what you did."
I turn to her and brush a slow kiss over her lips. "As long asyouliked it, I'm good." Then, quieter, more serious, "You were injured tonight. And here we are… you should get some sleep. I have a large bed, if you'd like—"
She presses a finger gently to my lips. "I accept your invitation."
I gather her into my arms and carry her to my room, the warmth of her body folded against mine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Kayden
I fucked up.
Gloriously. Catastrophically.
Everything she feared, I gave to her on a silver platter. The monster she peeked beneath the charm—the thing she tried to pretend wasn't there—I proved its existence.
That's what I am.
I couldn't stop myself. Couldn't hold the line.
I tasted her. And I liked it. No. I craved it. Needed it like nothing else in my whole damned life.
Then I ran. Like a fucking coward.
Because I knew if I stayed a second longer, I'd finish what I started.
I had to call my perfect brother to clean up after me. The reliable one. The controlled one. The one who didn't sink his fangs into her skin like a rabid animal.
Fuck. This.
Why do I even try to be different?
I've always been this. Since Culloden. Since the bloodlust first hit and we tore each other apart like wild dogs in the mud. I remember the taste of it—iron and heat and death. How right it felt in the moment.
Asher didn't lose himself. Not then. Not now.
He can have her. He deserves her. The savior. The steady hand. The one who can offer her peace instead of destruction.
Not me.
I'm not peace. I'm fire. I'm ruin. I'm not the fucking nature-hugging, chakra-balancing, incense-burning fantasy some part of her probably wants to believe in. I'm what happens when the fantasy bites back.
I roam the woods until the thrum in my veins dulls from a war drum to a heartbeat. It never really stops. But it slows.
By dawn, I've made up my mind: I'll pack my shit and leave. I've overstayed my welcome anyway.
I head straight to my room. No tiptoeing, no pretending to give a damn who's asleep. I'm done here.
