Page 145 of Allegiant

That man in there, he deserves it more than most.

There’s a peace surrounding me as I walk up those basement steps. I’m shaken, yes, but also I feel peace. Peace knowing that everything wrong is going to right itself, and soon.

“You look pale,” Samson says, leading me toward the kitchen. “You need some sugar…something.”

“I need to brush my teeth and take a shower. I feel…gross.”

I pull at my shirt, and Samson stares down at it for a moment before nodding. “Fine. A shower and new clothes and then I’ll make sure you have something to eat. Chocolate, maybe? Cake?”

Neither sounds good, but I nod and let him lead me to his room. It’s in his bathroom that he undresses me, my clothes falling onto the floor, my naked skin pale under the lights. While I brush my teeth, he flicks the shower on, and when it’s warm I step underneath it. The water pricks my skin, harsh and violent. It feels like small stabs to my chest, and I turn, my hands over my face. I feel like I’m slowly losing control, but then I feel it—warm arms twining around me, a strong body against my own. Samson.

I lean back, and he scrubs my skin with the bar of soap, his mouth on my neck, his tongue laving over my frantic pulse.

“You’re okay, Row,” he murmurs against my ear as his fingers flick my nipples.

I didn’t believe that minutes ago, but I believe it now. Mainly because he’s here with me, holding me, grounding me. I made the right choice. Dalton taking care of that man was right. I have no doubt about it. He needs to die. Slowly, painfully, for everyone he hurt before and after Adam, and for Adam himself.

Samson holding me now confirms that I made the right choice.

“Come on,” Samson says, his voice low, the water flicking off. “You need to dry off. You’re shaking.”

I am, my entire body trembling as he swipes the water from my skin and tucks me under the covers of his bed—our bed.

He follows me beneath, his naked skin against my own. His leg is thrown over mine, his arm twined around my waist. I can’t stop shaking, can’t stop the way my teeth clack as I try and keep myself under control.

I met the man who killed my best friend. My family. My one and only.

And he’s going to die tonight.

“You need a distraction?” Samson asks, his breath warm against my earlobe.

I nod, and he holds me tighter, his body like a weighted blanket against my own. And pretty soon, the feel of him pressed against me steadies me, calms my breathing, and makes those shudders dissipate.

And then I’m feeling something else entirely.

I missed him.

Samson.

I want him.

My lips touch his, my tongue pushing into his mouth as I kiss him tentatively. He meets each one, my legs twining around his waist as our lips press over and over. My groans turn into pleas as his cock thrusts against my own. I want him inside of me. It’s been so long, far too long of a wait.

He flips me over and works me open, two fingers and then three, until my hips are thrusting back against his hand, my face pressed into the mattress, my voice cracking as I beg for more, to be filled, to be split open.

He obliges.

Finally.

He flips me onto my back as he stares down at me.

“Tell me,” he says softly, and I reach up and touch his cheeks, his cock slowly sliding into me.

I don’t need to ask what he wants to hear. I know. “I love you, Samson.”

He groans and slides home.

And as he rocks into me, bringing me over the edge in a matter of minutes, I realize that this is where I’m meant to be. In his arms, in this home.