Page 79 of When Death Whispers

“You’re beautiful,” I murmur, unable to stop the words from spilling out.

A faint blush colors her cheeks, but she doesn’t look away. Instead, she hooks her fingers in the waistband of my sweats, tugging gently. I let her pull them down, kicking them off along with my boxers.

We stand there for a moment, both naked, both vulnerable.

I let her guide me back to the bed, allowing her total control of the moment. She pushes me down onto the bed, and I obey, following her lead without words. She slowly straddles me, the weight and heat of her sinking into me, and I shift, holding her close. Letting her know I’m not going anywhere.

There’s nothing frantic in the way we move. Nothing rushed. It’s not about forgetting or drowning out the dark. It’s about finding something brighter.

It’s about feeling something that isn’t fear.

Her silver hair falls in loose waves around her head, and I take my time tracing the bruises on her hips, kissing her lips like a vow. My hands stay gentle. Her gasps are quiet. Her touch is tentative, but it grows steadier with every heartbeat.

“I’m here to stay,” I whisper again, against her mouth.

And this time, I think she believes me.

29

I pressmy palm to Hudson’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath my hand. He’s solid under me—warm, grounding, waiting. I can feel the tension in him, the restraint. He’s letting me lead. Letting metake. And it’s exactly what I’ve been needing.

Not to forget. Not to escape. But to reclaim.

I shift, guiding him onto his back. I straddle him slow and steady, palms braced on either side of his chest. His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t stop me. His hands stay at my hips—anchoring but loose, like I can push them away at any time. He’s brushing the bruises left behind by Rad with his fingers, lazily, gently, and that alone speaks of acceptance, more than words ever could.

My hands roam across his chest, tracing each line of muscle, every breath he takes. I savor the slight tremor in his body, the way he holds himself still. His eyes stay locked on mine, dark with want but soft with something else. Something steadier.

“Parker,” he murmurs, voice rough and low. His fingers twitch where they rest, aching to explore.

I shake my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Not yet,” I whisper.

This is mine. My moment. My choice.

After feeling helpless and hunted for so long, and now twisted up in darkness—I need this.

To feel powerful. Desired.Safe.

I lean down, brushing my lips along his jaw. His stubble scratches against my skin, sending shivers dancing along my spine. I breathe him in—warm and familiar with that faint trace of vanilla—and let it anchor me.

“I need…” I trail off, unsure how to finish the sentence. I’m not even sure what I’m asking for.

But Hudson nods, like he understands anyway. “Take what you need, Silver.”

His voice wraps around the nickname like a promise, and something inside me cracks open in the quietest way.

I kiss him—slow, deep, intentional. He matches me, never pushing, never demanding, just meeting me exactly where I need. My fingers slide into his hair, tugging gently. He groans into my mouth, and the sound vibrates through me.

I rock my hips experimentally, the friction against the hard length of him resting on his stomach sending a delicious lazy shiver down my spine. His hands tighten on my hips but don’t shift. He’s holding steady, giving me the lead, letting me steer the storm.

I break the kiss to trail my lips down his neck, pausing at the place where his pulse flutters just under the skin, where Rad’s teeth mark is already fading. Guilt squeezes my chest but I decide there will be time for that later. Right now it is about embracing a bit of normal. So I bite down gently, replacing that memory with one of my own.

His hips jerk beneath me. “Fuck, Parker,” he gasps. “You’re killing me.”

A quiet laugh escapes me. “Good.”

I lean back, drinking in the sight of Hudson beneath me. His chest rises and falls rapidly, a flush spreading across his tanned skin. The white streaks in his hair seem to glow in the light, making him look almost otherworldly.

My fingers trace the lines of his collarbones, dipping into the hollow of his throat. Hudson swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. The muscles in his arms flex as he squeezes my hips just a tad more, fighting to keep his hands from roaming.

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