Page 109 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

His continued gentleness, the way he cradles me against him as if I'm infinitely precious rather than potentially lethal, makes the risk feel worth it.

For the first time in six years, I've chosen to trust. Chosen to believe that not every touch brings pain.

Not every connection leads to betrayal.

The shadows remain quiet, but their silence feels approving rather than ominous. As if they too recognize that this moment marks a turning point — a choice between remaining their carefully crafted weapon or daring to become whatever this alpha sees in me.

His scent wraps around me like a protective shield, carrying notes of acceptance and desire that make my head spin. The mix of pine and leather and mountain air gains sweeter undertones, as if his very essence celebrates my trust in sharing my true name.

I wait for his reaction with bated breath, every muscle tense despite his reassuring touch.Years of conditioning make me expect rejection, revulsion, or fear.Makes me brace for the moment he realizes exactly what —who— he holds in his arms.

But his grip never wavers.

His touch remains gentle yet firm, grounding me in this moment of vulnerability. His breath mingles with mine as we share this suspended instant between confession and response.

For the first time since entering Ravenscroft, I feel real. Not a number, experiment, or weapon.

Just Nyx —a name I'd almost forgotten belonged to me, an identity I'd nearly lost beneath layers of their careful programming.

His acceptance of that name, that truth, that core of self I've kept hidden for so long, means more than any kiss. More than any touch. More than any physical pleasure his presence ignites.

It means he sees me.

Truly sees me, despite his blindness.

Sees past their labels and designations to the woman beneath.

This instance is the birth of what I was about to sacrifice:

My fated destiny.

18

US AGAINST THIS CRASHING WORLD

~NYX~

"Scorpio," I whisper against his lips, feeling heat rush to my cheeks at my own peculiar habit.

His small smile encourages me to explain.

"I know it's strange, but I track zodiac compatibility. A Scorpio's traits match this moment - intense, passionate, drawn to the mysterious."

I hesitate, remembering my research on astrological incompatibility.

"Though some signs clash terribly with us. We're too intense, too focused, too..." I trail off, realizing I'm rambling. "I don't usually talk this much. Or at all, really."

Instead of mockery, he gifts me with his own introduction.

"Atlas. Capricorn." His thumb traces my lower lip as he continues, "They say Capricorns and Scorpios match well, though we both tend to battle for control."

That sinful smile plays across his lips before he kisses me softly.

"Makes me wonder if my little Scorpio has a dominant streak she'd like to explore."

My face burns at his words, but I refuse to retreat from the challenge in his tone. Taking initiative, I press my lips to his, thrilled when he yields to my lead.

The surrender emboldens me to wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

---