He goes still. Not resisting, just losing the last of his control.
Teddy leans into her, drawn in by the intoxicating aroma of the wild sea and the warm spice of cinnamon.
With her, there is nothing but want. Nothing but the endless pull of her.
“Wanting you is the only thing in this world I’m certain of, Seren,” he admits, his voice dropping into a low, husky register.
She lets out a breathy moan at his words, like the sound of them soothes something restless in her. She pulls on his neck, and his face nestles into the slender curve between her shoulder and neck.
“I know you will not be with me, Teddy. I have made my peace with that.” Then she pauses, a breath shuddering from her chest. “But I love you, no matter what.”
I love you.
The words reach him in the place nothing else can. The part of him that died with Tali. But somehow, Seren reaches him there.
I love you.
He can hear the words she’s not saying:so I am choosing this moment for myself even if you can’t love me back.
But she’s wrong. So the words tumble from his lips. “No matter what. No matter where, Seren. I will love you across lifetimes.”
A breath snags in her throat. “Just not this life,” she whispers, and his heart breaks.
The words land like mourning instead of rejection.
No matter how he tries to leave Tali in the past, he can’t. He cannot break the vow. He cannot run into the fray. He cannot leave the fear of the boundary. Because then what does it mean about him? Who is he without the one thing he hasn’t failed: his vow?
Not this life.
The words spear through his chest.
So he says the only thing left to say. The only thing hecangive her.
“What would you like to experience, Seren?” he asks, lips no longer able to resist blazing a trail across her skin. Hungry for her—body and soul.
She lets him, angling her face for better access.
“Pleasure,” she breathes. “If all we get is this one moment, bring me pleasure.”
Teddy stills at that—not because he doesn’t understand, but because he does. Too well. This isn’t impulse. This isn’t fleeting or careless. This is choice. And that makes it matter in a way that strips him bare.
His hand lifts slowly, deliberately, cupping her jaw as his thumb brushes beneath her cheekbone. He studies her like he’s trying to commit her to memory—not just the shape of her, but the certainty in her gaze, the steadiness she’s fought to earn, the clarity in the way she leans into him.
“Are you sure?” he asks quietly, not out of doubt, but reverence.
Seren doesn’t hesitate. She steps into him instead, her hands bracing against his chest, grounding herself against the solid, unyielding presence of him.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Something in him gives way at that. Not into chaos. Into intention.
He lowers his forehead to hers, breath mingling, the space between them collapsing into something quiet and sacred. “For this moment,” he murmurs, voice low and steady, “you get all of me.”
It isn’t a promise. It’s a boundary. And somehow, that makes it mean more.
Seren exhales like something inside her finally loosens. “Good,” she whispers. “Because after this, you get none of me.”
His chest tightens at the calm, clear promise. Because somehow, that hurts more than if she’d asked him to stay.
