“Yes.” The word came out like a confession. “I’m terrified of what this could cost you. Of what happened with Antoine happening again because of me.”
I understood then. Really understood. He wasn’t rejecting me because of our ages, or because I wasn’t good enough, or because he didn’t want me. He was rejecting me because he was trying to protect me from the same thing that had destroyed me in Chicago.
And I loved him for it. The realization hit me with stunning clarity—I loved this complicated, frustrating man who’d been pushing me away to keep me safe.
But I was done being safe. Done letting other people’s potential reactions dictate my choices. Done hiding what I wanted because it might be complicated.
I crossed the space between us before I could second-guess myself. Before logic could reassert itself. Before fear could stop me.
I kissed him.
For a moment he froze, his whole body going rigid with surprise. Then something in him broke, and he was kissing me back with an intensity that made my knees weak. His hands came up to frame my face, gentle despite the desperation I could feel vibrating through him, and I pressed closer, trying to convey everything I couldn’t say with words.
This was worth it. He was worth it. Whatever the cost, whatever the complications, this moment—this connection—was worth fighting for.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. His eyes had gone copper again, but this time it didn’t frighten me. This time I understood what it meant.
“Dante,” he said, and my name on his lips sounded like a prayer. “We can’t—"
“Yes, we can.” I kept my hands on his chest, feeling his heart hammering against my palms. “We can be careful. We can be smart. But I’m not walking away from this. From you. Not because other people might have opinions about it.”
“Your career—"
“Is mine to risk.” I looked up at him, making sure he could see I meant it. “Antoine destroyed it once because I let him have that power. I’m not making that mistake again. This is my choice. You’re my choice.”
His hands were still on my face, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones in a gesture so tender it made my chest ache. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Then tell me. Explain it to me. But don’t push me away because you think you’re protecting me. I’m twenty-three, not a child. I get to decide what risks are worth taking.”
He stared at me for a long moment, something complicated working across his face. Then he leaned down and kissed me again—slower this time, deeper, like he was memorizing the taste of me. When he pulled back, his eyes were still glowing,but his expression had shifted into something that looked almost like permanence.
Chapter seventeen
Power Play – A man advantage caused by an opponent's penalty
Theron
I held him close, breathing in the scent of him—sweat and adrenaline and something uniquely Dante that made my dragon rumble with satisfaction. But beneath that satisfaction was terror, because there was still so much he didn’t know. So much I needed to tell him that could change everything, and I didn’t know where to start.
“There’s more,” I said quietly, my lips still against his temple. “Things I need to tell you. Things that will explain why I’m so afraid of putting you at risk.”
He pulled back slightly to look at me, his dark eyes searching mine. “Okay. Tell me.”
I led him to the couch, settling us both down before I lost my nerve. He sat close, our thighs touching, and I took his hand in mine because I needed the anchor of physical contact for what I was about to say.
“I lost someone,” I started, the words harder than I’d expected. “My wife. Quite a few years ago.” The lie about the timeline tasted bitter—it had been over a hundred years, but I couldn’t tell him that yet. “She died because people wanted to control me. Wanted to use her as leverage to make me do things I didn’t want to do.”
Dante’s hand tightened on mine. “Theron, I’m so sorry.”
“It was my fault.” The confession scraped my throat raw. “Sounds ridiculous now, but it was arranged. She was from a respected family.”
“That’s not the same.”
“It is.” I looked at him, making sure he could see the truth in my eyes. “The same risks exist now. With you. There are people who would use you to get to me if they knew what you meant to me. And I can’t—” My voice cracked. “I can’t lose someone else that way. I can’t be responsible for—”
“But you’re a hockey coach,” Dante said, bewilderment clear in his voice. “Not a gangster. What kind of danger could there possibly be?”
Here it was. I should tell him now. I almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. Wanted to tell him that being a forge-born dragon made me more dangerous than any gangster, that Odin Clark wasn’t just a businessman but something far more predatory.
