The word feels different now.Bigger.
I lift my free hand and touch his wrist, keeping him there.“You are my mate.”
Knox goes utterly still, and the room seems to hold its breath.I feel the words settle inside me, not like a shackle, not like fate snapping closed, but like a door opening.
I say it again, because I want to hear it.Because I want him to hear it.“You are my mate.”
His eyes burn black and brown, beast and man both staring at me like I have handed them the world.“Briana,” he whispers.
“I choose you,” I say.“Not because fate put you in front of me.Because you stood still and let me come to you.”
His hand flexes once against my cheek.“Can I hold you?”he asks.
I nod because words feel too fragile.
Knox lowers his arms around me slowly, giving me time to stop him.I don’t.His hands settle on my back.His body curves around mine, warm and solid, but not trapping.
I step into him, and my forehead presses against his chest.His heart hammers beneath my ear.For a second, I feel him shaking.
Knox.
This huge, brutal man who can break brick and bone and monsters beneath the city.Shaking because I let him hold me.My eyes burn, and I wrap my arms around his waist.
His breath leaves him in a rough exhale.
“There,” I whisper.
His chin dips toward my hair, not quite touching.“There?”
“This is okay.”
His voice turns raw.“Okay is enough.”
It’s not just okay.That’s the terrifying part.It’s good.
His arms around me feel like a wall I chose to stand behind.His scent fills my lungs—smoke, leather, rain-wet earth—and for the first time in too long, my body doesn’t search for exits.It rests.
Not completely.
Not perfectly.
But enough.
After a while, I tilt my head back.“Knox?”
“Yes?”
“I’m still scared.And a little angry.”
“I know.”
“I may panic tomorrow.”
“Then I stop.”He says it so simply.
“And if I need space?”I ask.
“I give it.”
