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Propped on his elbow, he draws the sheet away from my body, eyes alight with fascination as he slowly peels away my modesty. “I’ll never grow tired of looking at you.”

I place my hand over the scar where Remus stabbed me, and the cluster of yellowing bruises that surround it. “You might.”

Gaze unwavering, he doesn’t so much as glance there. “No. Never.”

He pulls me into his chest, hands gripping my bare bottom as he presses his lips to mine.

A sharp, sweet scent, like nutmeg, fills my nose, watering my mouth.

“What is that … delicious smell?”

“Jasmine grows along the banks of the river. A natural aphrodisiac.”

Palm to the back of my head, he steals another kiss, this time dipping his tongue to deepen it. Heat from his body leaches into my skin, cooled by a passing breeze, and I feel so cozy tucked against Titus that I could fall asleep here in his arms.

Lowering his head, he swirls his tongue over my nipples, and I tip my head back, moaning toward the night sky.

The brush of stubble over my collarbone marks a path of kisses across my throat, his palm pressed against my spine, trapping me to his chest. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, just breathing, holding me.

I run my fingers down his back, and he shivers. “What is it?”

“I’ve never had anything in my life that felt like mine.” When he lifts his head, there isn’t a trace of amusement in his fiery gaze. “To watch over and protect.” He strokes a hand down the length of my hair, his grip tightening enough to tilt my head back. “What I feel for you is the kind of possession that makes a man want to do violent things.” Teeth gritting, he tightens his grip. “Things that make him more evil than good.”

“What’s done for love can’t be evil, Titus.”

“This is beyond love. What I feel for you is both maddening and merciless.” Dragging his teeth over my throat, he draws me closer, smashing my body against him. Silently claiming me for himself.

I recall the nights when he held me captive--blindfolded and tied--and how much I enjoyed the surrender. The trust. The lack of control.

As his tongue stokes my desires, I long to feel that again, but a niggling sensation stirs in my gut.

Fear.

What if doing so triggers a memory? A flashback to the many times Remus tied me to his bed.

I remember Titus’s words from before: fear and courage aren’t mutually exclusive.

In order to regain those feelings of trust with Titus, I have to trudge through my fears.

Even if it means triggering my nightmares.

“Titus,” I whisper, before his mouth closes over mine, sealing my breath with a kiss. “I want …. I want you to tie me. Like before.”

Breaking the kiss, he pulls away, his face twisted into a scowl. “I won’t bind you again, Thalia. Not after--”

“I’m fine.” There was a time I enjoyed that feeling of submission. I want to erase the fears I’ve associated with it, and Titus is the only one I trust to do that. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this. I’m fine, okay? Please, just trust me.”

His frown deepens.

In spite of my nod, the expression etched in his face, the deep grooves in his forehead, tell me he isn’t so sure.

“Please.” My shaky voice betrays the assurance of my head, and now I’m questioning it myself. I recall the times when my hand shook, the moment the guards tried to bind me. The way my whole body turned cold and nausea stirred in my gut. I feel that now. Like I want to back out and curl up into a tight ball where no one can touch me again.

But I won’t.

Because, at the back of my head, I can still hear Remus laughing at me, and I refuse to accept that he’s taken everything from me.

With a huff, Titus draws my hands up over my head, pinning them in his grip, and the first tickle of panic flutters in my stomach. “If this is what you need. Then, I’ll do it. For you.”