“I’m not running,” I said.
His eyes closed.
“I mean it. From the bond. From you. From this house. From whatever word you’ve been choking on. I’m not running.”
His hands came to my waist.
“If you’d told me on the ramp, I’d have freaked out,” I said. “So maybe you were right this once.”
He opened his eyes. They were dark and molten and so focused on me that it stole my breath.
Kazan made a low sound and pulled me closer, his forehead pressing to mine.
“Say it again,” I told him.
His breath brushed my lips. “Mate.”
There it was.
No courtroom or threat. No room full of people who wanted to use us or judge us or save me against my will.
Just Kazan and me. Just that one word, soft enough to break me.
“Again,” I whispered.
“My mate.”
I kissed him. There was no careful left in me. None.
I climbed into his lap, and he caught me like he’d been waiting for permission to breathe. His hands spread across my back, one of them nearly spanning the whole of me, and he kissed me with that terrible restraint he always carried.
Like he wanted to devour me but would rather die than take a bite, I didn’t offer.
I bit his lower lip, and he growled.
Perfect.
“We won,” I said against his mouth.
“Yes.”
“James is gone.”
“Yes.”
“Nobody’s taking me anywhere.”
“No one.”
I pulled back enough to look him in the eye. “Then take me to bed.”
He carried me down the hall, past the little guest room with careful steps, and into his room. Our room. The bed was enormous, covered in dark linen, sunlight spilling across it from the window.
It was all very dramatic.
I would’ve made a joke, but Kazan laid me in the middle of the bed and looked at me like he’d found religion.
I sat up and shoved at his chest.
