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No Bride.

Just Sage leaning into my hand.

I brush my thumb across her cheekbone.

“Tell me to stop.”

Her fingers curl around my wrist.

“No.”

“Sage.”

“Stop waiting for me to.”

Then she kisses me.

And for the first time since I met Sage McBride, the Earth stays silent.

It doesn’t demand.

It doesn’t answer.

It doesn’t ask for blood, or fear, or pleasure, or anything else from either of us.

Nothing beneath the floor moves.

Nothing whispers her name.

Good.

Because whatever happens next doesn’t belong to the Harvest.

It belongs to us.

I grip her waist and lift her onto the counter, sweeping aside whatever the fuck gets in my way.

A mug hits the floor.

Ceramic shatters across the tile.

I don’t care.

My mouth crashes against hers, and I kiss her like I’m starving. Like I’ve been starving for two hundred and thirty-five years and only now understand what hunger actually feels like.

She tastes like coffee and defiance.

Like Sage.

The sound she makes when I catch her bottom lip between my teeth goes straight to my cock.

“Ezra…”

“Quiet.”

I grip her jaw and force her eyes to mine. “You wanted me to choose.” My thumb drags across her swollen lip. “I’m choosing. And you’re going to take what I give you without making a fucking sound.”

Her pupils blow wide.