“You shouldn’t.”
“I don’t belong to a bond.”
“Of course not.”
“I don’t belong to you.”
“You don’t.”He answers each one without hesitation, and that matters too.
I stand slowly.Knox doesn’t move.“I’ve spent all day asking myself what I want when no one is telling me what I should want.”His breathing changes.“I’m scared of this,” I say.
“So am I.”
I ignore his words and keep talking.“I’m scared of wanting you.”
The room goes painfully still.There.The truth between us is fully out in the open now.It’s not pretty or soft, but it’s real.
Knox’s hands curl once, then open.“Briana.”
“I’m not finished.”His mouth closes instantly.Good monster.
“I am scared because wanting means I still have something to lose.I’m scared because my body remembers hands that hurt, and sometimes it doesn’t know the difference fast enough.I’m scared because you are big and dangerous, and when your eyes go black, every sensible part of me says I should run.”
Pain moves through his face, and I step closer before he can drown in it.“But I don’t want to run from you.”His eyes lift to mine.“I want to come closer,” I whisper.“And that scares me more.”
The breath leaves him like I struck him.
I stop in front of him, close enough to touch, but not touching.
“If I choose you,” I say, “it’s not because of fate.”
His voice is rough.“I know.”
“If I choose you, it’s not because your beast decided first.”
“He doesn’t get a choice.”
“If I choose you, it’s because you stop.Because you ask.Because you came back when I called.Because you told me the truth even though you looked like it was killing you.”He swallows hard.“And because when you touch me,” I say, heat crawling over my skin, “I feel like the touch belongs to me.”
His eyes go black.Not fully, not dangerously, but enough that my body notices.Enough that heat sparks low in my belly.
He takes one slow breath.“What are you choosing, Briana?”
The question is careful.So careful it hurts.I lift my hand, and he goes still.I touch his chest first, over his heart.Beneath my palm, it pounds hard and steady.Not calm but alive.
“I’m choosing this.”
His eyes close and I feel the shudder move through him.
“I’m choosing your touch,” I say.His eyes open and my throat tightens, but I keep going.“Only yours.Not always.Not without asking.Not when I say no.But yes, Knox.I want your hands on me when I choose them.”
A sound rumbles in his chest but he kills it almost immediately.
“Sorry,” he says.
“No.”My fingers curl in his shirt.“Don’t apologize for wanting me.”
His expression breaks, just for a second but it’s enough.
