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"Every damn day." The promise is a solemn oath, sworn on the altar of her forgiveness.
And as the night wraps around us—a cocoon of dark promises and whispered hopes—I know that no matter how twisted the path, it's led us here, to this moment of redemption.
Nova's hand reaches for mine, a tentative sparrow fluttering against my calloused palm. Her fingers, delicate and cool, slip between mine, an anchor in the storm of emotions that rage through me.
"Blaze," she whispers, her voice carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken words.
Her touch is a catalyst, igniting the kindling of hope I've been nurturing in the dark recesses of my heart. It surges forth, unstoppable, as our fingers entwine, locking together in a bond that feels as ancient as time itself.
"Nova," I breathe back, every fiber of my being straining toward her, drawn by the magnetic pull of her soul.
Her eyes lock onto mine, and in their cerulean depths, I see it—the flicker of understanding, the silent acceptance of our intertwined chaos. It's a look that sears straight through to my core, branding me with its intensity.
"Let's not lose this again," she says, her grip on my hand tightening, anchoring us both to this newfound reality.
"Never," I vow, the word torn from somewhere deep within me. "I'll fight for us, Nova. For whatever twisted, fucked-up version of love we have. Because without you, I'm just...I'm just lost."
The night air shivers around us, charged with the electric current of our connection. We're two damaged souls, finding solace in the eye of the storm, a quiet understanding blooming like a nightshade in the moonlight.
"Show me," she challenges, a spark of the old fire dancing in her gaze. "Show me every day, Blaze. Make me believe."
"Believe this," I say, pulling her closer, my free hand finding its way to the small of her back, pressing her body against mine. The world fades away as we embrace, our hearts syncing in a rhythm of trust and desire.
"Blaze..." she gasps, a sound that vibrates through my chest and settles somewhere deep inside.
"Shh, beautiful," I murmur against her hair, inhaling the scent of the ocean that clings to her. "Just feel."
Her arms wrap around me, a soft surrender to the moment, to the raw emotion that pulses between us. Her breath fans against my skin, hot and quick, a testament to the passion that simmers just below the surface.
I hold her tight, feeling the beat of her heart against my chest, a drum calling us to war—a war for love, for redemption, for the promise of a future where darkness doesn't win. And in that embrace, I find everything I've ever wanted, needed, craved.
"Blaze, I'm—" she starts, but I cut her off with a kiss, deep and possessive, my lips claiming hers in a silent declaration of everything I can't put into words.
"Yours," I finish for her, pulling back to look into her eyes. "You're mine, Nova. And I'm yours. Fucked up, obsessed, completely yours."
The night seems to exhale around us, a collective release of tension as if the very stars are aligning to witness the birth of something new, something fierce and beautiful in its imperfection.
"Always," she breathes, a smile breaking through her tears, and in that moment, I know. This is where I belong. In her arms, against her skin, connected to her soul. This is the beginning of forever.
CHAPTERTEN
One YearLater
Nova
Sunlight slices through the blinds, carving patterns of light and shadow across the bedroom we've claimed as ours. The walls are a gallery of our life together: photographs of sun-kissed beaches, neon-lit arcade nights, and candid shots that capture us mid-laughter, mid-love, mid-everything.
"Morning," Blaze murmurs, his voice a rough melody that vibrates against the nape of my neck. He's warmth and ink-stained skin pressed against me, the metal of his piercings cool in contrast to the rising heat beneath the sheets.
I twist in his embrace, facing him. "Hey." My fingers trace the tattoos that scroll over his arms, reading them like the story of us. His chest rises and falls with a steady rhythm. The dragon inked across it seems to breathe with him.
"Sleep well?" he asks, thumbing the delicate chain around my neck—a gift from him that I haven't taken off since the day he clasped it on.
"Always," I lie, because deep down, the black dog of my insecurities still barks at night. But with Blaze, the fears dissipate like mist at dawn. I know he hears the lie; he always does. But he doesn't call me out. Instead, he pulls me closer, sealing the space between reality and pretense.
"Come on, let's get some coffee into you." He rolls out of bed, muscles flexing, an invitation for my eyes to follow.
We move in sync, shuffling toward the kitchen, bare feet on cold wood. The kettle screams its readiness, and I lean against the counter, watching him work his magic with the French press. We don't need words, not really—not when every glance and touch speaks for us.
