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Time loses all meaning. It stretches out, endless and brief, and it’s just us—the flickering shadows on the wall, the softness of the sheets, the heat of our joined bodies. It’s just us, and it’s perfect.
The push and pull between us grows more desperate, frantic. Ever’s nails dig into my back again, and I welcome the sting, the raw reality of it all. This isn’t just sex; it’s a claiming—a binding of two souls that have circled each other for far too long.
“Yes!” she cries out, her voice laced with pleasure, and something in me snaps. My control shatters like glass under a boot heel, and I’m spiralling, falling into an abyss of sensation so intense it borders on pain.
There’s no holding back, not now, not ever again. I’m buried deep inside her, where every thrust is a word in the story we’re writing together. The story of us.
“Ever,” I gasp, my breath coming in short, ragged pulls. Her pussy clenches around me, and the sensation is too much, yet not enough. A paradox that only makes sense here, in this moment, with her.
My climax hits suddenly. The crest of a wave that’s been building since the moment I first saw her, since I first realised that she was the one thing in this twisted, dark world that I couldn’t live without. It crashes over me, obliterating thought, washing away everything but this—this blinding peak of ecstasythat leaves me trembling, vulnerable in ways I never knew possible.
I collapse beside her, our sweat-dampened skin sticking together. The room is quiet now, save for our laboured breathing and the soft rustle of sheets as we shift, turning toward each other.
Her green eyes gaze into mine, the colour shifting, alive with emotion. There’s no hiding from that gaze, no pretending that this was anything less than what it was—life-altering. In those depths, I see something that mirrors my own feelings. Fear and wonder, as if she too recognises the gravity of what has passed between us.
“Little dove,” I whisper. It seems insubstantial, but it’s enough. It’s always enough. Her fingers tangle with mine, and I hold on tight, knowing that no matter what darkness lies ahead for us, she is the light that will guide us through.
11
EVER
The day after the exceptional sex-fest in this very room, I force myself to meet my gaze in the mirror. My hands are trembling like crazy. The mascara wand is almost my enemy, threatening to smudge black all over my face any second now. I take a deep breath, telling myself to chill out. It’s just makeup. It’s just a stupid ball. But it’s not just any ball—it’s the Alumni ball at KnightsGate University, and everyone who’s anyone will be there to hear me make a complete fool of myself with the fucking speech.
“Ever, you got this,” I mutter, trying to sound convincing. My terrified eyes stare back at me from the mirror. I can’t mess this up. Not tonight. I swipe the wand one last time, hoping my lashes look decent.
Glancing down at my dress, smoothing out the fabric that hugs my body just right. It’s simple, elegant, and nothing too flashy. Black silk drops to my ankles, with thin straps and a modest slit up to my knee so I can ascend the stage steps without having to worry about going ass over tit. It’s more than I’m used to wearing, considering my usual jeans and t-shirt combo and I look nice. My hair is loose in blonde waves down my back, inpart to cover up the inscription that is still scabby and gross to look at. Glancing at the brand on my inner left wrist, I cringe. It burns like a motherfucker, but aloe vera seems to be taking a bit of the sting out of it. I can’t cover it up, so I’m just going to have to smile and tell people it’s a new type of tattoo or something if anyone even asks.
“Okay. Showtime,” I say, giving myself a final once-over.
Taking a shaky breath, I step away from the mirror and head towards the staircase, my tiny purse with my speech cue cards inside clutched in my grip. Alistair, Ben, Charlie, and Damien are waiting at the bottom of the grand staircase, all looking eye-wateringly gorgeous in their tuxes.
Alistair looks like he stepped out of a high-end fashion magazine with his perfectly styled dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He’s all charisma and confidence.
Next to him, Ben, with his sandy blonde hair in its usual tousled style, has a quiet intensity that makes you want to spill your darkest secrets. His green eyes meet mine, and there’s a calm possessiveness in his gaze that steadies me a little.
Charlie’s grin is the third thing that catches my eye. It’s wide and infectious, showing off his easy-going nature. His hazel eyes sparkle with mischief under the light brown strands of his hair, and for a moment, I forget about the nerves clawing at my stomach.
Then there’s Damien lurking just a step behind the others. His jet-black hair contrasts sharply with his pale skin, and those light grey eyes of his are fixed on me, intense and protective.
“Wow, Ever, you look gorgeous,” Charlie breaks the silence, his voice full of genuine awe.
“Thanks,” I manage, somehow finding my voice as I start to descend the stairs in my low heels, again not giving myself the opportunity to go flying. With each step, I feel their eyes on me,and the knot of anxiety in my chest loosens just a bit. By the time I reach the bottom, I’m not shaking anymore.
For now.
“Ready?” Alistair asks, holding out his arm to me. There’s an edge to his voice, something commanding that doesn’t allow for a ‘no.’
“Mm-hm,” I murmur, slipping my hand into the crook of his elbow, feeling the solid strength of him beside me.
The four of them surround me as we move together toward whatever the night holds. It’s dark, it’s complicated, but right now, their presence is the security blanket I desperately need.
We walk across the campus, bathed in moonlight, the chill autumn air puckering my nipples under my strapless bra. The ballroom doors swing open, and we walk into the grandeur of KnightsGate University’s Alumni Ball, my arm still looped through Alistair’s. The room buzzes with conversations and clinking glasses, but it all fades into a dull roar when I spot the stage at the far end. The microphone stands tall at the podium, menacing, like a challenge I’m not sure I can meet.
“Shit,” I mutter, my eyes fixed on the stage.
“You’ve got this, Ever,” Damien says quietly from behind me, his tone low but firm.
“Easy for you to say,” I retort, but there’s no bite in my words. I know he’s trying to help.
