Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 120475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
I pull back, meeting his eyes, needing him to understand. “I didn’t want to hurt you. But I had to make you believe it. I had to make it real. And I am so sorry. It felt like I was choosing my brother’s life over you.”
His jaw tightens. “You did the right thing. I know my father was ruthless enough to do it.” His hands come up to frame my face, thumbs brushing over my cheekbones with such tender reverence that my knees nearly buckle.
“And I knew it,” he says again, voice rough. “I fucking knew it. I could feel it in my bones that you were lying that day. Your eyes...” His thumb slides across my bottom lip. “You’ve never been able to lie to me without your eyes giving you away.”
I exhale sharply, my heart rabbiting against my ribs. “But you let me go.”
“I didn’t have a choice. You used the safe word. I had to respect that.”
My throat tightens. He’s right. I’d weaponized our trust against him. The one thing that had been sacred between us.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“No.” His fingers tighten, tilting my face up. “Don’t you dare apologize. Not for protecting the people you love. Not for sacrificing yourself. The dominos were always going to fall. But I’ll be damned if I don’t set them back up again. I love you, Moira.”
His words pierce through me.
“I missed you,” I confess, the admission torn from somewhere deep. “I missed you so much it nearly killed me.”
His expression breaks, something raw and vulnerable crossing his face before he pulls me tightly against him again. I feel the shudder that runs through him and how his heart hammers against mine.
“Moira.” My name feels like a prayer on his lips. “I thought I’d lost you.”
My arms slide around his waist, holding on like he’s the only solid thing in a world that’s been spinning out of control for too long. The meds made everything gray, but somehow, in his arms, color seeps back into the edges. Dangerous, beautiful color.
“I’m not...” I swallow hard, forcing myself to be honest. “I’m not the same.”
His hands stroke up my back, one tangling in my hair. “Neither am I.”
I lean back just enough to look into his eyes, searching for any sign that he’s lying—any sign that he’s disappointed in what I’ve become. But all I see is that same intensity, that same desperate hunger that’s always been there when he looks at me.
“I’m on meds now,” I say, the confession hard to push out. “They help. Sometimes. But they make everything... duller. Quieter.” I bite my lip. “I don’t know if I can be what you need anymore.”
His eyes darken, and for a moment, I think I’ve ruined it. I’ve shown him too much of the broken parts of me. But then he cups my face between his hands again, his gaze burning into mine.
“I don’t need you to be anything but mine.” His voice is a growl that sends shivers racing down my spine. “Just like I’m yours. We’ll figure out the rest.”
“I love you,” he says, the words simple and devastating. “I’ve always loved you. I will always love you.”
“I don’t know how to be steady,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “I don’t know who I am without the highs and lows.”
His thumbs brush over my cheekbones, catching my tears. “Then I’ll love you through all of it.”
I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut. “What if I’m not the same?”
Bane’s lips hover over mine, his breath mingling with mine, his fingers strong, sure. “Listen to me. Your brain makes you who you are. Who I love. You are Moira fucking Callaghan, the most unique, fascinating, infuriating woman I’ve ever known. And I will want you, need you, and worship you, no matter what. Medicated or not. High or low. In sickness and in health. That’s what those vows meant to me.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “You’re sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” I brush away a tear with my thumb.”
Something in me collapses. “I love you too. I always have, and I always will.”
And then, finally—
He kisses me.
Not a slow, careful thing. Not something delicate.
My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer, closer, until there’s no space left between us.
It’s brutal.
It’s wreckage.
A hunger, a devastation, a reclaiming.
And I let myself be taken.
SIXTY-TWO
BANE
I slam the door to my father’s study—my study now—and lock it behind us. The sound echoes through the room like a gunshot, ricocheting off leather-bound books and mahogany panels.
It’s a declaration. A line drawn.
The world outside this door doesn’t exist anymore. Not the inheritance. Not my venomous family downstairs. Not the years I spent hating my father while he plotted to tear apart the only good thing I’ve ever had.