Chapter 19

“She didn’t slay the monster.
She found it in the dark,
sat beside it,
and asked for its name.“

Nathan’s POV

The paper burned against my palm, its words gnawing at the back of my skull, itching in a way I couldn’t shake.

Never trust the water.

What the hell did that mean?

I folded it once, twice, and shoved it into my pocket like I could bury it out of existence, but the words kept crawling under my skin. My pulse hadn’t slowed since I read them. It wasn’t just a mere note. It felt like something else…like a threat wearing memory’s face.

Usually, I welcome threats with open arms; heck, I even seek them, but something about this in particular didn’t settle well with me.

Thoughts skittered behind my lids. Maybe that thing I learned, with the pool when she was little, wasn’t just an accident. Maybe there was a different truth tucked behind her blank spots, one that her mind kept hiding…perhaps that was what triggered her in the cabin.

The soft click of her door handle snapped through the silence. I shoved the paper deeper into my pocket, returned the book to its place, and stood. My heartbeat fell into a slow, dangerous rhythm as she stepped out, her hair still damp at the ends, her white skin a bit flushed from the heat of the house. She was wearing a baby pink sweater with little shorts that made her look too human for my peace of mind.

She looked at me, her eyebrows pulling closer, “You should dry yourself before you get sick.”

I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. My mind was too loud, replaying every moment I shared with her, testing every theory, mapping out how I’d find whoever left that note and break their fucking face.

Aylin tilted her head, frowning. “Nathan?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, trying to get back to myself.

She sighed softly. “Would you at least drink something warm?” she asked, already walking toward the kitchen.

I nodded once, slowly, because words didn’t trust me anymore.

My gaze followed her as she moved, the way her fingers ran through her hair, tucking it away, the faint tremor in her wrist, the quiet in her eyes that didn’t quite reach calm. Every move she made, I catalogued it, looking for something off, something that would explain the unease clawing at me.

When she reached the counter, I followed, leaning back against the opposite edge, my arms folded, my eyes tracking her every motion. Maybe if I focused on the small things, I could silence the goddamn noise in my head.

She reached for two mugs without looking at me. “Tea or coffee?”

“Tea could work,” I mumbled.

She turned on the kettle, picked out two teabags, and stood there, fingers drumming lightly against the counter, her eyes fixed on the rising steam. Her shoulders were still a little tense, her breathing a bit too quiet, and I wished I could tear open her beautiful little head and read whatever chaos was humming behind it.

When the water finally boiled, she poured it into the mugs first, then tore the packet open and dropped the teabag in. I winced as I watched the crime unfold in silence in front of me.

“My British ancestors are rolling in their graves right now,” I muttered.

Aylin turned, slightly taken aback by my words, then that small, reluctant smile flickered across her lips, barely there, but enough to make something in my chest loosen. “What did I do wrong?”

“You never pour the water first, that’s barbaric,” I commented, purposely trying to lighten the mood, to distract my mind from the note burning a hole in my pocket. I stepped closer, picked up the mug, and took a cautious sip. I winced again, “See, blasphemous.”

She chuckled, a low, very soft sound. “You’re so dramatic,” she murmured, lifting her cup and taking a sip. A small hum escaped her, ever so pleased. “See? It’s perfect.”

She turned toward the counter. “Do you want sugar?”

My eyebrow raised, “God, no.”

She rolled her eyes, blowing gently at her tea to cool it. “You’re such a stuck-up Brit, aren’t you?”

I set my mug down and stepped closer till the space between us shrank to nothing. My hand came to rest on the counter beside her hip. “And you’re the American dream, aren’t you?”

Her lips twitched again, a hint of a smile breaking through. Something about this tiny exchange seemed to loosen the knot in her shoulders. For the first time tonight, life flickered back into her mesmerizing eyes.

A low breath escaped her. “I really don’t get you,” she said, as if voicing the thought that had been sitting on her tongue for far too long.

“Don’t get me?” I echoed.

She nodded, tilting her head to study me. “You speak Italian so fluently, you know the country like it’s yours,” She commented, “But also, you have this British accent and habits, and some times, your accent slips and some words come out so American,” She added, “You adapt to life here like you’ve always been here,” She squinted her eyes at me, and playfully asked, “So, who are you, Nathan?”

My mouth curled up, but it was half joke, half confession. If I only knew the answer to that question, my life would be so much simpler, wouldn’t it? Who am I, really?

“Do you want me to explain it?” I asked because, as much as I loved watching her scream and implode, fight me and scratch my face, I loved this too…this peace in her eyes, this rare serenity that enveloped her the longer we spoke about random things.

She nodded, ever so excited, the warmth covered the top of her cheeks and nose with a faint redness, and she looked so fucking precious. I wanted to bite her, to eat her alive, and at the same time, to wrap her in my arms and keep her there. Fuck, how will I ever recover from this illness she is causing me?

I moved a stool closer and tapped the seat with my hand. She followed and sat there without hesitation, cradling the mug between her palms. I pulled my stool up opposite hers, set my cup down, and eased my knees so her legs slipped between mine; the simple nearness steadied me.

“Alright,” I started, exhaling. “So, the thing is, my biological…” I paused because I didn’t like to call him the father word; it felt dishonest. “You know, the man who donated half of his DNA to me, well, he is American.”

Her brow tightened with interest, and I let her piece it together slowly, “My mother, she was Italian; she lived there before she moved to the states and married him,” I explained, and Aylin nodded, intently listened like she was learning the map of me for the first time, her eyes so soft and curious.

I watched her watch me and added, “And my father, he is…was Italian, but he spent most of his life moving between London, here, and Italy. He took me everywhere with him. We’d stay in Italy during summers and breaks, sometimes here for work, but London was our home in a way; it was the place we always went back to.”

“Wow,” She whispered, astonished, “Must’ve been one hell of an adventurous life you had,” She added, so unaware.

I smiled and nodded, “You have no idea.”

Her thumb traced the rim of her cup, and her eyebrows pulled slightly closer. “So, you were adopted?” She mumbled lowly, just now coming to terms with that fact.

I nodded my head.

“You told me that,” She added softly, and her throat bobbed, hesitating like she was afraid of stepping too far, “that your father died, was it your…adoptive father?”

I nodded, “He is my only father,” I corrected her.

She gave a small nod, understanding flickering across her face. She lifted the mug to her lips, slowly sipping and stalling, like the tea might help her process what I’d just told her.

“Go on,” I said.

Her brows pinched. “What?”

I tilted my head, my lips twitching. “I can see it in your eyes, you want to ask something. So, ask.”

She narrowed her gaze, pretending to think it over. “Fine,” she said after a beat. “How in God’s name are you related to Lilly?”

My smile widened, “Again with that, huh?”

“Yes, again,” she huffed. “That question keeps me up at night, I swear.”

“All I heard is that I keep you up at night,” I said, and she rolled her eyes like she always did when I twisted her words for my own entertainment.

“Okay,” I went on, grinning, “but clear your mind before I explain, it’s complicated.”

Her frown deepened. I leaned back a little, tracing the pieces in my head. “So, technically, there are two ways she’s related to me. Her father is…” I paused, my brows furrowing, “Her father would be my…cousin. I think.”

Aylin blinked. “You think?”

“Yeah, but here’s where it gets worse,” I continued, “Her uncle is also my father’s…son?” I added, unsure of how to phrase that.

My words only added to Aylin’s confusion, “What?”

I shook my head, deciding to take the other route and spare her the full headache, “To simplify it, her uncle is married to my sister.”

She just stared at me, frowning, her mug halfway to her lips. “I don’t understand.”

I nodded, “That’s normal, we’ve got a bit of a messy bloodline,” I said.

Her shoulders slumped as she sighed softly. “Well, that at least explains why I never saw you before,” She commented, “I mean Lilly and I were almost inseparable before she went to Cambridge.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “And Lilly and I only met after she went there,” I clarified, then shrugged, “Probably for the best. One of us in that family was already enough chaos at a time.”

“Wait…really?” she asked, still trying to untangle whatever the hell I was. I nodded my head, and thoughts flickered behind her eyes like sparks attempting to connect. “And somehow, you’re also friends with her ex?” She added in a low, deducing tone, addressing Christian.

“Yeah,” I said, “I’m even the reason they met in the first place.”

Her eyes widened, taken aback, “You’re kidding.”

I smiled. “When you were over here praying for someone to take her away from your lover boy, God listened and sent me to hand-deliver your miracle.” I threw her a wink.

She glared at me. “I did not pray for that.”

I arched a brow, leaning in a little. “You know I can always tell when you lie, right? So maybe don’t.”

Her jaw tightened, “Like I said, I didn’t,” She grumbled, glaring at me for accusing her.

I tested her once more. “Sure, and you don’t still daydream about it sometimes?” I said, my voice soft enough to be a suggestion and hard enough to be a dare.

Her glare hardened, and her grip on the cup tightened, “Why would I?” She said, “I don’t care whether they’re together or not; it’s none of my business.”

“So you don’t secretly wish they’d break up again?” I asked, watching her and waiting for the crack. “Maybe then you’d get another chance to go after him.”

“No, I don’t,” She shot back, fire flaring in her eyes. She slammed her cup over the counter, “and even if they do, he’d be the last person I ever go after.”

My jaw ticked, “I told you, I can tell when you lie.” My voice dropped low, a rumble that didn’t belong to anything sweet. I hooked a hand under the stool’s leg and harshly dragged it so close I consumed all of her space. My palm rested near her hip, “And when you lie,” I said, watching her, “you kind of trigger my homicidal tendencies. So tell me the truth.”

“I told you, Nathan, why do you keep bringing this up!” She snapped, “I would never—never waste one second of my time on him.” Her face was so close, and I could see it in her eyes, the tiny twitch of truth, how, for once, they were painfully honest. “I’ve wasted years of my life on him. I was young and stupid. I would never do that to myself again.”

She was telling me the truth now, I could tell, which meant the lie was somewhere else…

My head titled, “But you do wish they’d break up?” I murmured,  my voice almost tender.

She didn’t answer right away. Silence filled the space between us. Then the corner of my mouth curved because I saw it…that look. The shadow I’d been searching for behind her normalcy. The one that looked a little too much like me.

I always knew my princess had claws; she just hides them beneath pink sleeves and manicured nails. There’s darkness buried deep in her, too, a similar euphoric urge like mine to watch things burn and crash.

“Yeah,” she muttered finally, her voice softer now as she let me in on her little dark secret, “Yeah, I do wish she’d leave him.”

Her next words came quieter, but steadier. “Only so he’d know what it feels like.”

Her gaze didn’t waver, not even a flicker. I leaned back slightly, watching her. I’d dragged this subject up on purpose. Chase was another ghost from her past. I brought him up to test the limits of her mind. To see what name, what wound, would make the switch flip in her again. The same way it did that night in the cabin.

But her pulse didn’t skip. Her breathing stayed even. Chase didn’t reach her. He didn’t live inside her head the way I thought he did.

He wasn’t strong enough.

My lips curved, slow and thoughtful.

So, my beautiful princess, if not him…who is it?

Who is it that lives in your head rent-free? Who pulls the thread and makes your world come undone? Who is your trigger?

“Do you know what they call that?” I muttered, reveling in and soaking up the beautiful look in her eyes that resembled me. “They call it revenge,” I pointed out, “You want him to feel pain, just like the one you felt.”

I leaned in closer, “Say the word, and I’ll make it happen.” I was ready, already imagining the various colorful ways. Even if it would break Lilly’s heart, I’d do it without hesitation. My princess’s wishes were my command. “I’ll put him in a type of pain he’ll never recover from.”

The sincerity in my words forced her to take a step back, and she shook her head, “Just because I want it doesn’t mean I will act up on it.” See, this little line she won’t cross is the only thing that makes us different; she has mercy, I don’t.

“It’s just a petty urge. I know that with time, I will stop caring altogether, that I wouldn’t even think of…revenge or whatsoever, so no,” She added, “I won’t do a thing.”

She exhaled, shaking her head again, quieter this time. “I hope they stay together, happy and whatnot, just…far away from me.”

Her words tried to sound peaceful, an attempt at normal, like she was tucking her claws back in and pretending they weren’t there. When I didn’t speak, she looked back at me until something in her gaze faltered.

“Nathan,” she whispered, then her eyes darted down, as if she couldn’t hold my stare too long. “I don’t have an explanation…or an excuse for what I said in the cabin that day.” She shook her head again, her throat moving with the effort to swallow it all down. Then she found my eyes once more. “But you have to believe me. Not once, not once, when we were together, did he ever cross my mind. Not in that way, not in any way.”

She wasn’t lying. I could hear it, see it, the truth behind her little confession.

“It’s why I liked being with you from the very first time,” she said, “Because you…” She drew in a deep breath, “You have this thing…this way of making everything else disappear. You silence every voice in my head.”

Her eyes softened, “and I like that, maybe a bit too much.”

You silence every voice in my head.

God, she had no idea what that did to me.

She said it like it was salvation, but all I heard was possession.

She thinks I bring her peace, but that’s not what I do. I don’t silence her thoughts…I replace them. I crawl into the empty spaces and breathe for her until she forgets how to do it herself. She’s chasing quiet, and I’m the noise she’s confusing it with.

My lips curved because she wasn’t the only one under my skin anymore. I was beneath hers, too.

“Careful, princess,” I murmured, my mind flickering back to the note burning in my pocket, wondering which voice in her head it belonged to, “I am not the thing that saves you, don’t mistake me for that,” I added, “I tend to take whatever I touch and turn it into ashes, you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

I wasn’t sure she heard me right, because a soft smile betrayed her, completely out of place in the ruin I’d just offered her. She turned her face slightly, her teeth dug softly into her lower lip like she was trying to hide it.

My brows drew together. “What?” I muttered.

She looked back at me and shrugged, “Nothing.”

“You’re smiling,” I pressed. “What’s that for?

Her lips curved higher, and she shook her head lightly. “I just…missed you calling me that.”

“Calling you wh…”  I paused mid-word as realization hit. “Oh,” my eyebrow raised, “Princess,” I mumbled, “didn’t think I said it out loud.”

She tilted her head, her eyes glinting with a soft, innocent glow. “You like calling me that, don’t you?”

My eyebrow rose. “Do you like it when I do?”

She nodded, “For some weird reason…yeah, I do.”

I gave her a look that should’ve made her stop smiling, but it didn’t. Her grin only widened as she leaned closer, her voice ever playful. “Why do you call me that, anyway?”

Guess today is Q&A day, because I can’t seem to stop giving her every answer she is seeking.

“When I was a kid,” I said quietly, “I used to hear stories about fairytales and princesses.” I reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, my fingers lingering near her skin. “And I always imagined them to look like you.”

“Like me?” She whispered.

I nodded, “Like you,” I said, my thumb brushing faintly over her cheek, “Beautiful, breathtaking, untouchable,” I added, my gaze never once leaving that wild green garden of secrets in her eyes, locked behind a crooked gate I fully intended to open one day soon.

“But you see, in their stories, the princess sits in her tower, waiting to be saved.” I shook my head, “I never dreamt about that.”

She blinked slowly, and on instinct, her hand reached for me. It rested over my arm, either to balance herself or to feel me and check whether I was real. “Then, what did you dream about?”

“I dreamt about a princess who’d sit beside the monster under her bed and ask for its name,” I leaned in closer, my voice a low hum against her skin. “I used to think there was something hauntingly beautiful about that kind of madness, the way she’d look at the thing that terrified everyone else and…” My eyes flicked down to her hand, her fingers unconsciously fluttering over my arm, “…and reach out a trembling hand to touch it instead of running.”

Her breath caught. For a moment, she stared at her own hand like it had betrayed her, then she pulled it back, retreating into herself as if reality had sharp edges again.

My eyes dragged down her face, tracing every little detail. “I dreamt of the kind of fairytale where her tower goes up in flames, and the prince comes to save her, waits by her window, begs her to come out—” I shook my head, a ghost of a smile twisting my lips. “But she doesn’t go. She stays under that bed, beside the monster, and she chooses to burn with him.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. She just stared at me, caught between wanting to move and forgetting how.

“You see, princess,” I whispered, my thumb brushing her lower lip, “I didn’t grow up wanting to be the hero, never did. Heroes live for the ending. I was always more interested in the part of the story where everything falls apart.”

Lines tightened between her brows. “But why?” she mumbled, swept away by everything I had revealed today.

My brow rose. She pressed on, searching for a tether, something she could relate to, “Why would you want that? What happened to make you want…that?”

I forced my hand to drop from her face, “I think the why, who, what part of our evening just reached an end,” I said, my tone a bit harsher than intended because if I kept going, I might just tell her everything, and that’s not why I am here.

I’m here to pry her open, to unravel her wavering brain, not the other way around. I need to map the places her mind slips through. To find the ghost that still speaks in her head and see which hand holds the match. I need to know her secrets, I need to find out what happened, I need to know if there’s someone after her, and I need to eliminate them.

My tone must’ve cut sharper than I intended, because she retreated a step back, her hand lifting to her neck in a nervous reflex.

I felt a…a sudden faint warmth slide down the side of my throat, and my brows knit together. I brought my hand and touched the spot, wiped it with my fingers, and glanced down at the thin smear of blood staining my fingertips.

Aylin’s eyes tracked my movement, widening when she saw the smear of red. “There’s still blood,” she breathed. Her throat bobbed as she turned, fumbling through a drawer. “Hold on,” she muttered, wetting a cloth under the tap and warming it between her palms before coming back to me.

She moved with that uneasy tenderness, getting closer and closer till I could breathe all of her in. She tilted my head with two careful fingers beneath my chin and set the warm cloth at the cut, blotting slowly and steadily until the cloth showed light red.

Her fingers hovered, then brushed lightly against my skin, wiping away the blood…the one she’d drawn from me. Told you, she’s the wicked thing I’ve been dreaming of since I was a kid.

I winced, pretended to, anyway.

Her eyes flicked up, wide, full of worry and guilt. “Does it hurt?”

I nodded, “Yeah,” I lied, my lips tugging into a grin. “Wanna kiss it and make it better?”

She gave me that look, the one caught between irritation and worry. Her chest rose, then her gaze drifted back to my neck. The cloth slipped from her fingers, landing soundlessly on the counter. She hesitated for half a heartbeat before closing the distance, her hand finding my shoulder for balance. Then she leaned in, her breath warm against my neck.

Her lips brushed the skin at my throat, and my whole fucking world tilted. Her soft, warm lips moved, so slowly, so tortuously over the cut she caused, too gentle for what I deserved.

Her other hand cupped the other side of my neck, keeping me steady as her mouth did fucking wonders. I breathed her name like a curse, my eyes slipping shut, and I threw my head back, “Fuck,” I grumbled, nearly moaned because the ache this one month had carved into me, cracked wide open again.

My hand cradled the back of her head, my fingers digging deep, threading and curling around her golden hair, pulling her back, tilting her head right as I leaned down and crashed my lips against hers, unable to hold back anymore, unable to tame this wild need in me, this inhuman urge, to tear into her, to dig into her skin and bones and live there forever.

My lips consumed hers wholly, my teeth dug into her lower one, nearly drawing out blood, my fingers tightened over her hair, unable to draw a single boundary or hold myself back. A feral, unhinged ache had me devour her mouth like a straved man, and god, I’ve been starving for far too long.

The stuttered moan that climbed up her throat, I swallowed it down, my other hand climbing, wrapping over her neck, my thumb pressing right where her pulse was, feeling it, pumping hard, jumping, a crazy, distorted thing like me.

I pushed her back, only because I was trying to get closer and failing. Her hand moved from the side of my neck, and her fingers dove into the back of my hair as she sank into my kiss, fully surrendering, kissing me back with the same thirst, like she’d been stranded on a deserted island for years, and I was her first sip of water, like she knew it might drown her and didn’t care.

My hands slipped from her hair and neck, hungry to touch and claim more, every little piece of her. My palms skimmed down her arms, over her breasts, the curve of her waist, before they flatened near her thighs. In one rough, quick motion, I lifted her and sat her down on the counter. I swallowed her gasp and pushed myself between her legs, never once breaking the kiss. I couldn’t. It felt like breathing would cost me more than staying lost in her.

Fuck, I needed her now, all of her. I needed to be buried deep in her, or I would tear her apart to get there. The madness drumming against my skull made me see red; it blurred my vision around the edges. The taste of her after all that time, after I punished myself and stayed away, unraveled me thoroughly.

My lips moved to her chin, down her jaw, below her neck,  to the place where her pulse thrashed, kissing and nipping the silky skin, “I missed you,” I grated out, my voice too rough, too hoarse. When did I ever miss someone in my whole life?

My fingers hooked under the hem of her sweatshirt, pulling it up as I bit the side of her neck, my teeth sunk, ready to draw red out of her veins, “So fucking much,” I grumbled as I pulled the sweatshirt off her head and discarded it.

Her heavy breathing mixed with her soft moans enveloped the space around us. Her arms wrapped tighter around my shoulders as I ate her alive, “I missed you too,” She whispered, her voice dissolving into a loud whimper when I pinched her sensitive nipples, and bit the translucent skin of her breasts and neck.

Her hands fumbled with my sweatshirt, desperate to get it off me too, but instinct, or habit, or whatever the fuck it was, had me harshly catch her wrist before she could. She pulled back, startled, her eyes falling into mine, fragile and needy all at once, “What did we agree on?” She mumbled softly, recalling our last time at the cabin, how she made me break all of my rules.

For a moment…I nearly shattered again. Nearly turned her around, bent her over, and gave in to every filthy thought I’d been caging since the last time I touched her, but I…didn’t.

My jaw tightened, and she reached again, slower this time, more careful, like she was afraid I might push her back and leave. Her fingers found the hem and tugged it upward. I let her, assisted her as she stripped it off me, and tossed it to the floor.

My eyes went there, watching, checking whether the note fell from the pocket, but it was securely resting beneath the fabric. My jaw clenched once more, till I felt her fingers over my cheek, turning my face toward hers, “Nathan?”

If she’s gonna keep saying my name like that, my lungs might give out again, and I might just fucking die right here.

I didn’t give her a second to breathe, to think, to pull away. I cupped her face in both hands and crashed my mouth against hers like it was the only thing keeping me alive.

My hands slid down to her thighs, gripping, my fingers sinking into soft skin as I shifted her closer, right where I needed her. She responded instantly, those beautiful legs locking around me like they always did. Her arms wrapped tightly around my shoulders as I lifted her and carried her out of the kitchen.

I only broke the contact of our lips when we were in her room, and before she could recover, I let go, her sweet body falling onto the mattress with a muffled gasp. I took off her shorts and knicks and threw them away, having no time to waste. Then, I flipped her over, her chest hitting the mattress. She yelped at the sudden movement, at how I toyed with her sweet body like I pleased.

She lifted her head, tilting her neck to look at me as I ordered, “Up on your knees.”

The fire in her eyes didn’t just burn; it exploded and expanded, “You’ll do anything just so you don’t have to look at my face while we have sex, won’t you?” She grated out, glaring at me, at how I flipped her around, annoyed and kind of…hurt?

My lips curved up, and I wanted to bite her pretty face again. This bratty princess of mine—she will learn to obey, in time.

“On your knees, I said,” I grated out, “Don’t test me. I want you up on all fours, princess.”

She didn’t move, still glaring and fuming.

So I did.

I moved forward, wrapped an arm around her waist, and hauled her up. Her back hit my chest as she groaned and twisted in protest, a rageful, delicious little thing. My other hand found her chin, my fingers curling beneath it, tilting her face up until her eyes were forced to meet mine.

“See?” I murmured, my voice like a quiet threat. “I’ll look at your pretty face all I want.” Her wild green eyes locked with mine in the mirror, the one perfectly positioned in front of her bed.

“I want to watch these beautiful eyes roll back as I bury myself deep down in your drenched pussy,” My hand left her face and traveled down, touching everything I could before I reached the apex of her thighs, “as you take all of me like the good girl you are,” I cupped her there, my palm pressing against the damp heat of her, and a broken whimper escaped her lips.

“God, will you look at that,” I groaned, my fingers flexing, grinding against her. The proof of her arousal was slick on her inner thighs, and now on my fingers, “You’re already dripping for me.” My lips brushed the sensitive skin beneath her ear, my teeth grazing just enough to make her shudder. “How long has it been?”

“A month,” She breathed, a trembling sound as she leaned back into me. “A month and four days,” I added, whispering the words into her neck, my nose buried in her hair. “When I am away from you, Aylin, I count even the seconds,” I muttered.

She curled her fingers over my arm, the one tightly wrapped around her waist, holding onto me as I toyed with her body. My fingers slipped between her folds with calculated slowness, with enough pressure to make her hips jerk forward.

“Tell me, princess, what do you want first?” I kissed her shoulder and slid one finger up, pressing it harder against her clit, “My mouth?” I kissed right where her pulse was stuttering for me, “My fingers?” I thrust two inside her without warning, curling them just right, and her knees nearly buckled. “Or my cock? Your pick.”

She threw her head back, pressing against my shoulder, her chest heaving, her breath coming in ragged gasps even though I was barely touching her, just enough to tease, and get her all ready to take me. “You know what,” she managed to say, all breathless and ready.

I clicked my tongue. “No,” I murmured near her ear, “but you’re going to tell me.”

She turned her head just enough to catch my gaze, her breath unsteady. “You’re insane,” she whispered.

I smiled and leaned to sweetly peck her lips, “For you, I am,” I mumbled, “Now, tell me.”

When she didn’t speak, I thrust my fingers again till her inner walls clenched around me, so tight and wet it made me throb. Fuck, I was hanging by a thread. I curled my fingers just right, brushing that spot inside her that made her go mad, and then, before she could comprehend the blissful feeling, I pulled them out.

Aylin groaned, and her eyes squeezed shut, her neck flushing a deeper shade of maroon, the faint bruise on her shoulder from where I’d bitten her earlier flaring. So sweet.

“Please, just…” She managed to whisper, her hips rolling back against my hand, grinding against my straining cock. The friction was maddening; it was taking everything in me not to fall apart, too.

“Just what?”

Her eyelids snapped open, and she glared at me, “Just fuck me!” She shot out, and my smile widened, “With what?” I asked, feigning innocence.

She groaned loudly, “With your fucking dick, with what?” She shot out, frustrated and angry and so fucking adorable.

I chuckled, “Ahh, when this sweet mouth says filthy things…what more could I possibly ask for?” I said right before I pushed her down, my hand between her shoulder blades as I forced her onto all fours. Fuck, she was a vision, the way her back arched, the way her thighs trembled, the way her pussy glistened, already swollen and needy.

She met my eyes in the mirror as I discarded my pants, getting rid of unnecessary layers. Her breath stuttered as I positioned myself just right, my cock pressing against her entrance.  Her breathing hitched, her body instinctively pushing back, desperate to take me.

Well, I was no gentleman, but I won’t make my princess wait any longer.

I didn’t give her much time to adjust. In one rough thrust, I buried myself inside her, stretching her, filling her so completely she cried out, her fingers clawed at the sheets as she screamed, a blissful noise, my favorite symphony, and I nearly blacked out too from the euphoric sensation.

The room spun like I was free-falling through fire. She was my high, my unhealthy addiction, my crack and heroin…She was my favorite sin, and god be my witness, I will stain her, with me, with my bites, my blood, and with the ink I try to bleed onto paper, trying to name what she does to me.

Fuck, she felt so good…better than good, like she was made only for me. Just mine, no one else’s. Mine to play with, mine to unravel, mine to keep. “Fuck Aylin, I really missed you,” I groaned, unable to tame the wild thing in me that keeps running back to her. She tightened around me, strangling me, fuck, I couldn’t fucking breathe.

Usually, I would add up the rhythm, slam into her one brutal thrust after the other, till she forgets even her name, screaming as she shatters around me, but no, not today, not after one whole month. I wanted to prolong this, to savor it, every bit of it, to feel every inch of her.

I rotated my hips, I allowed her to adjust before I dove in deeper, my rhythm less brutal, more moderate, letting her feel every single stroke, every nerve of our bodies joining, clashing, and becoming one.

Her soft moans became throatier, deeper, her body falling into rhythm with mine. I held her by the hips as I controlled the thrusts. Still, I didn’t go gently, not one bit. I went deeper, testing all of her limits, gazing at her face in the mirror, watching her eyes water, “God…I,” She tried to say, but her words dissolved into a whimper, her head falling forward into the sheets, muffling her moans, “I can’t…I can’t take this.”

“You can handle me, princess.” My hand moved over her back, reaching the nape of her neck, my fingers threading through her hair, gently urging her head back, so I can see her, “You’ve taken worse than this with me, remember,” I muttered, but fuck, she was right, there was something different this time, something…new.

I smoothed her hair, my hand moving to her waist, my arm circling her middle, my palm pressing right under her breasts, urging her body back, pushing her deep, and pulling her closer to me, skin on skin, heartbeat against another. Her face was so mesmerizing, red and fractured, her gaze hazy, drunk and high, “This feels…” She gasped.

I groaned and buried my face in the crook of her neck, “Different?” I muttered.

“Yeah…” her voice nearly broke, “…and perfect,” She added, breathlessly.

She moved her arm back, wrapping it around my neck, holding onto me in any way she could. I upped my rhythm, “God, Nathan,” my name ripped out of her, and I swear I grew harder inside her, and nearly came right there and then.

“Say my name again,” I grated out, pulling back, only to slam deeper into her.

“Nathan,” She heaved out, breathed my name, whimpered it, fuck, she was doing what I wanted her to do, erasing that cursed moment out of my head. A violent shiver rattled her as she clenched around me, and I never stopped thrusting into her, “Nathan,” She mumbled again, tilting her head so she could reach my lips.

She moaned my name into my lips, and I swallowed every little breath, her fingers digging into my scalp, and I went deeper, fucking her harder, hitting her sweet spot until she came undone, her body trembling in my grip, and only my name on her tongue, just my fucking name.

She fell apart, but I didn’t stop, couldn’t let go of her. I needed to vanquish this hunger, but I couldn’t get enough. She made an animal out of me, a feral beast. I didn’t stop, and my princess was as desperate as I was; her body kept moving with mine, always finding the same rhythm, the same reckless hunger.

I flipped her over when I felt I was close, pushed her back into the bed. The air around us thickened, heat rolling off both of our skins. Every breath she took brushed my lips, every small sound she made coiled tighter in my chest until I thought I’d tear open from the inside.

She reached for my face, edging her head up, and pressing her lips into mine, “Nathan,” She mumbled, so spent and breathless, and that was enough to make me come inside her the longest I ever have. One month without this, without her, was no joke. I don’t think I am capable of doing it again.

She sighed into my mouth, the sound soft enough to unnerve me. I brushed a kiss against the corner of her lips. “You’re on birth control, aren’t you?” I asked. Her eyes fluttered open, “Yes, I am,” She muttered, and her eyebrow arched, “A bit too late to ask that though, don’t you think?” She remarked.

I smiled and pecked her lips before shifting my weight beside her. “You know my favorite places to come are…right in this mouth,” I curled my fingers over her soft, swollen lips, “And in this needy, warm pussy,” my hand brushed between her thighs, where my cum was already leaking, claiming her in every sense.

Her face flushed instantly, and she lowered her gaze, looking at my chest, “What now?” I mumbled, urging her to look back at me, “What happened to the girl who screamed for me to fuck her with my…fucking dick? If I recall correctly.” I said, my tone playful and full of tease.

The flush rose over her cheeks, and she glared at me through it, shoving at my chest. “Stop,” she muttered.

“You’re so adorable,” I murmured, stealing one more kiss before I pulled away. She almost whimpered, her eyes following me. “Where are you going?” She nearly whined. Oh, do I love it when she is desperate for me, too.

I threw her a wink. “I’ll be back.”

I hastily placed my pants back on before I walked to the kitchen. I made sure to pick up my sweatshirt from the floor, checking the note in its pocket before I rested it aside. A few moments later, I went back to her room, a glass of water in one hand, and a wet cloth in the other.

Aylin was already half-hidden under the blanket when I came in, her eyes heavy, her body spent. Her face lit up when I handed her the glass. “How did you know I was thirsty?” She asked, taking a big gulp.

“You’re always thirsty after we have sex,” I pointed out, settling beside her. I leaned closer and took care of the beautiful mess I left between her thighs with the warm cloth. “Mostly my fault.” I looked up, a smirk tugging at my mouth. “I keep you breathless.”

She smiled, and for a second, her cutely flushed, sleepy face made my chest ache like something in it had gone wrong. I ignored it, finished, and slipped into bed beside her. She curled into me without hesitation, fitting herself against me like this was our norm, like we never went apart.

Her head found my neck, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the little cut. I wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. She exhaled a small hum of contentment, her eyelids fluttering.

“Nathan,” she whispered, barely awake.

“Yeah?”

Her hand rose, brushing my cheek, her eyes half-open, dream-heavy. “I think…” she murmured, “I think if given the choice, I would stay under that bed and burn with you,” she whispered, addressing the little story I told her, and god, that did something to me.

I felt something break open in my chest; something that shouldn’t have been capable of breaking anymore.

No words came out, but she didn’t need them. She was already drifting, her face nuzzled against my neck, her breath soft and steady against my skin.

Sleep took her easily, and she fell into a peaceful slumber. Me? I couldn’t.

My hand, still curled around her waist, drifted upward until my fingers rested at the side of her neck. I pressed lightly, tracing the thrum of her pulse beneath my fingertips. I was becoming addicted to that little rhythm, obsessed with it, to the story it told, the secrets it betrayed. It said more about her than her lips ever did.

I felt it slow, her heartbeat settling into that calm, synchronized rhythm, and I waited.

When I was sure she was all out, I carefully, and slowly eased away, untangled myself from her, and stepped out of the room.

My body was still thrumming, humming with too much noise, with something foreign. I hadn’t been myself since that night in the cabin. Something had cracked open in me, and whatever leaked out didn’t fit anymore. For once, I am unable to sort the chaos in my head. I used to thrive in it, but this wasn’t that. This was new, this was different, and so fucking strange.

I needed something, not sure what, something to anchor me, to repress this wild energy coursing in my veins. My eyes fell on the closed balcony door, and I checked my pocket, fishing the packet out as I made my way there. I clicked the door shut behind me, and the cold wind slapped my bare chest instantly. I welcomed it. I was burning still, feverish even.

I slipped a cigarette between my lips, lit it, and drew in deep. The smoke scratched down my throat, toxic and familiar, and I closed my eyes.

Think, Nathan, just think.

Before I could take another drag, the weight disappeared from between my lips. My eyes snapped open just in time to see Aylin crush the burning tip against the metal rail, killing the flame, then tossing it away. She turned to me, her sleepy eyes glaring.

I glanced toward the balcony door to see that it was open. I hadn’t even heard her come out.

“You said you were quitting,” She grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest, over the sweatshirt she’d slipped on.

I shook my head, a lazy grin tugging at my lips, “No, I said I would stop when I have something else keeping my mouth busy,” I corrected.

She narrowed her eyes, unimpressed, “Okay, I’ll buy you a box of lollipops tomorrow,” She remarked mockingly.

My lips twitched, and she caught it, exhaling hard through her nose, her cute little way of hiding worry. “You need to stop this,” she said, her voice softening. “You’re living with a borrowed lung, Nathan. That’s already enough risk as it is. You can’t just…” She trailed off, sighing, “You can’t do this to yourself.”

I reached for her arm, pulled her closer until she stumbled into me. “If you promise to keep my mouth busy, I’ll promise to never light up another cigarette ever again.”

She looked up at me, her eyes flicking between mine, then she nodded. Rising on her toes, she pressed a quick kiss to my lips. “I’ll keep this insufferable mouth of yours busy. Just stop smoking.”

I nodded, brushing my thumb over her chin. “Alright then. I promise I won’t.” My tone dropped lower. “I’m a man of my word, Aylin. I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep.”

I was never addicted to cigarettes anyway. Her, on the other hand, she’s the one habit I’ll never break.

Something in her gaze softened at that. The tension drained from her shoulders, and her lips curved into the faintest smile before she leaned in to peck my lips again. “Cool,” she whispered.

Before she could step back, I caught her by the wrist and pulled her in again. My voice brushed against her lips as I said, “Be my girlfriend again.”

She blinked, startled, her throat bobbing. “That sounded like an order, not a question.”

I exhaled, “Fine,” I muttered. “Shall I get down on one knee and ask you, then?”

Her silence stretched long enough for me to start lowering myself, because I absolutely would’ve done it. She gasped, catching my shoulder before I could. “Don’t, you crazy man, okay,” she mumbled, but her voice was threaded with a smile.

I raised a brow. “Okay?”

She sighed, defeated but smiling. “Okay, yeah, I’ll be your girlfriend. But I need another promise from you.”

I groaned, dragging the sound out. “You’re gonna use this promise thing against me now, aren’t you?”

Her lips twitched, but she nodded anyway. Then she took a breath, slower this time, her voice dropping lower. “Promise you’ll never leave me like you did that day. No matter what happens, you won’t disappear without an explanation.”

I understood exactly what she meant. That, if her mind ever got lost again, she wants me to be there to fill in the blanks for her. I didn’t even hesitate. I brushed my thumb over her jaw, met her gaze, and said quietly, “I promise.”

Her features softened instantly, her body unwinding as she let out a small, content sigh.

“Now, can we go to bed?” she mumbled, her voice hazy with exhaustion. “It’s freezing.” She shivered and burrowed closer into me, mumbling something about needing to wake up early.

I tucked her closer and pulled her inside, closing the door behind us. “You got an early flight?”

She nodded sleepily, her words half-muffled against my skin as we sank back into bed. “Don’t wake up when I do, it’ll be too early, sleep and rest. Just lock the door before you leave,” she added, like she actually believed I’d let her walk out in the morning without having a good taste of her first.

Now that she was mine in every sense, I would devour her, slowly, thoroughly, every second, every breath, of every day.

“I’ve got to travel tomorrow too,” I said, my mind already cooking up plans, ways to reveal everything I needed to know about my princess, “I’ll see you when I get back?” I added.

She nodded, her eyes half-lidded, her voice soft as sleep claimed her again, “You better,” she whispered.

My hand found her neck, my fingers tracing the steady rhythm beneath her skin. That fragile, beautiful pulse, as it thudded against my touch, I let it lull me under, too.

Her heartbeat was the last thing I heard before sleep took me, the most intoxicating symphony I’ve ever known.

⊹˚₊‧──────────────‧₊˚⊹

One day later…

I stood outside the antique door, my finger pressing the bell, my reflection warped in the polished glass of the door as I waited for it to open.

Last night, I’d slept better than I had in months. Probably because I’d fallen asleep with her heartbeat under my palm and woken up to the taste of her skin. My princess had left early, as promised, but not before I’d devoured her all over again.

When she was gone, I didn’t waste time. I called Adam, and we spent the morning buried in files and systems we probably had no right to access, trying to dig up anything. I needed a clue, a medical record maybe, an old incident, anything that could explain all of this. We came up with nothing, but I told him to keep digging. There’s always something. There has to be.

The lock clicked, cutting through my thoughts, and the door creaked open.

My eyes fell on Lilly, her hair scraped into a messy bun, her body drowning in an oversized Mickey Mouse pajama, a tub of ice cream in one hand, and a spoon still hanging from her mouth. For a full second, she just froze, blinking at me, then her eyes went wide, and she abandoned her ice cream before she launched herself at me.

“Nathan!” she squealed, throwing her arms around my neck.

“Bloody hell,” I muttered, half-laughing as I caught her midair, “Remember when you used to hate me?”

She pulled back, her grin bright. “Still do,” she said, and her face lit up, “But it’s so good to see a familiar face here. I thought you were my downstairs neighbor.” She huffed, glaring toward the hall. “She’s this old lady who comes up every night to complain about the noise.” She rolled her eyes and grumbled under her breath, “I hate French people.”

She shut the door behind me, then squinted. “Wait…when did you get here? Actually—how did you even—” Her eyes narrowed as realization struck. “How the hell did you know where we’re staying?”

I gave her a knowing look.

“God,” she groaned, waving me off, “never mind. I don’t even want to know, you creep.”

She hugged her ice-cream tub to her chest like it was sacred and padded ahead, leading the way. “So, why are you here, again?”

I followed, “Well, I heard your lover boy’s on a flight tonight, so I figured I’d come keep you company.”

Lilly plopped onto the couch, digging her spoon into the ice cream, her eyes narrowed at me in mock suspicion. “You expect me to believe you flew all the way to Paris just to see me?”

I nodded solemnly. “Yeah. Missed you. Can’t I?”

She arched a brow, licking her spoon slowly. “Oh, remember when you used to hate me?” she threw back my words at me.

I leaned against the arm of the couch and flashed her a smile. “Who said I ever stopped?”

She gasped in exaggerated offense, then kicked my leg with her fuzzy Mickey Mouse slipper.

I laughed under my breath at her silliness. She nudged her ice-cream tub toward me. “Want some?”

I shook my head, “No, not a fan of ice cream.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief, “Who doesn’t like ice cream?”

“Apparently me,” I answered.

She stared at me for a long second, her spoon frozen midair, before muttering, “God, I always knew you were a psychopath.”

She licked her spoon, her eyes flicking over me as she pulled her legs up onto the couch and crossed them. “Come on, confess,” she said, her spoon pointed at me like a threat. “Why are you here?”

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “I need answers,” I muttered. “And something tells me you might have them.”

Her head tilted, her eyes narrowing like she was studying me. Then her lips twitched, and she set her ice-cream tub aside, giving me her full attention. “Let me guess,” she said, voice laced with amusement. “You’ve witnessed one of Aylin’s…episodes, haven’t you? And now you’re all confused about it.”

My eyes locked on hers. “So, you know things,” I said quietly.

She shrugged, “I told you before, she was my best friend,” She said, “She used to sleep over at my place all the time, we were rarely ever separated. I’ve spent so much time with her, probably more than anyone else ever did.”

“Then talk,” I grated out. It came out more like a command than a request.

Lilly read my desperation, and she leaned forward, “And what do I get in return?”

My jaw twitched. “How about I don’t kill your lover boy the next time I see him?”

She shot me a hard glare, slipped off her Mickey Mouse slipper, and hurled it at me. I ducked just in time.

“Talk,” I repeated.

She huffed out, “Okay, I will,” She said, “On one condition only.”

My jaw ticked, and I dragged a hand over my face, praying for patience, “What?”

She smiled, all tease and bright, full menace, this little germlin. “Answer me first,” She leaned closer, “Do you loooooove her?” She asked, drawing the word out like she’d found the best joke.

I shot her a glare and harshly shoved her away. She stumbled back into the cushions and chuckled, “Oh my god, this is priceless.” She laughed out loud. Does she want me to pull my knife and kill her? No one would even suspect me, “You’re so in love I can smell it on you. It’s disgusting…and adorable.”

My jaw ticked. “No. I’m not. Stop.”

She kept grinning, ever so triumphant. “Keep telling yourself that, Romeo.” She chuckled again, her face all flushed from laughter, as if she had found the most enjoyable punchline ever, “God, and all those times you made fun of me, it’s finally my turn. I am so happy.”

If looks could kill, her parents and dear boyfriend would be planning a funeral. Unbothered by the glare that should’ve burned her alive, she tried to smother her smile, clearing her throat and scooting closer.

“You’ll talk?” I grumbled.

She nodded, then leaned in and pinched my cheek. “You’re so adorable. Who knew psychopaths could fall in love, huh?”

I caught her wrist, “Lilly!” I warned.

She cleared her throat and nodded, pulling her hand back, “Okay, okay,” her lips twitched again, but she was a tad more serious now, “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

⊹˚₊‧──────────────────‧₊˚⊹

Author’s note:

Hey, wassup? 🙂

What do you think of the chapter? Hope you liked it.

Also, just to point out, I don’t think any of my male leads are as obsessed with their girls as much as Nathan is obsessed with Aylin. He scares me. No jokes. I feel like he might just kill her from how much obsessed he is xD

Anyways, do vote and comment 🙂
See ya soon 🩶