“It’s fake,” I say.Her throat works, and I keep my voice low.Steady.Hers.“It’s not theirs.You aren’t theirs.”My thumb brushes once over her knuckles.“You are yours.”
Her eyes shine before she nods.“And?”
The beast stills.I know this one costs her.I know because it costs me too.“And if you choose,” I say, the words rough enough to scrape, “I am yours to call back.”
Silence falls before Ari makes a small sound.Akasha looks away, blinking too fast.
Briana doesn’t.She holds my gaze, and the bond between us—no longer hidden, no longer nameless—pulls tight enough that I feel it in my teeth.
Mine.Hers.A vow waiting for blood and breath.
Briana steps closer until our joined hands are caught between us.“I want to talk to Knox alone.”
Ari clears her throat.“Absolutely.We were leaving.”Akasha picks up the tray she is carrying, then nearly drops it, then glares at Ari when Ari snorts.
“I am very composed,” Akasha says.
“You are carrying cursed jewelry and pretending not to cry.”
“It’s a decoy.”
“It’s still ugly.”
The two of them disappear down the hall, bickering in low voices.
The door closes, and Briana and I are alone.
Her apartment feels smaller with me in it.Softer too.Pale curtains.Flowers on the counter.A basket of snacks she has barely touched.The bed is unmade, sheets twisted from the sleep she doesn’t get enough of.
I don’t look at the bed for long.I am not that strong.
Briana releases my hand, and I let her.The loss is immediate.
She walks to the window and looks out over the city.I stay by the door, because distance is safer.Because I told her she chooses.Because every inch of me wants to go to her, and wanting is not permission.
“I meant it,” she says.
“I know.”
She turns.“Do you?”
“No.”
Her mouth curves slightly.Truth doesn’t wound her as much as guessing does.
“I want to,” I say.“I want to believe it.But wanting you has been a thing I locked down so hard I don’t know how to open my hands without grabbing.”
Her expression softens, and I hate that.I also need it.
She crosses the room slowly.“Then don’t grab.”My breath leaves me.
She stops in front of me, closer than before.Close enough that I can see the faint freckles across her nose beneath the makeup Ari probably helped her with.Close enough to see the pulse jumping at the base of her throat.
“Tell me what mating means for your kind,” she says.
My beast presses forward, listening.
“It can be different,” I say.“But for Minotaurs, claiming is not only words.The beast needs scent.Touch.A mark given and accepted.”
