Page 51 of Hunting Harbor

“Fine. Later then.”

After breakfast, we settle on the couch, her with her notebook, me with my plans. I've been strategizing our move to the new place, working out the final details. The cabin's done, but something in me isn’t ready to let go of this place quite yet. It brought us together. It’s special. I’d keep us here if Knox wasn’t texting me non-stop to get out.

Something must be in the air for all of us to find our perfect matches, one after the other, but I don’t stop to question it. Not when the only one that matters is right here, with me.

The silence stretches between us, comfortable for her, calculating for me. The only sounds are the scratch of her pen on paper and our breathing. I watch her profile, the delicate curve of her nose, the concentration in her furrowed brow, and feel a possessive heat spread through my chest. I made the right choice. Harbor is perfect.

The thought expands in my mind until it's the only thing I can focus on.Mine. Mine. Mine.The word pulses with my heartbeat, demanding to be said aloud.

"You're never leaving me, Harbor." The words escape before I can dress them up in something more palatable.

She pauses, pen hovering over paper. The cabin's air grows thick, oppressive. For a moment, only our breathing disturbs the stillness.

Then, without looking up, she murmurs, "Maybe someday."

The world stops.

My hand shoots out before I've made a conscious decision to move, fingers wrapping around her throat in a grip that's both precise and savage. Her pulse jumps wildly against my thumb as I tighten my hold, just enough to remind her who controls the air she breathes.

"What did you just say?" My voice drops to a register I rarely use with her now, the one that strips away the charming facade and let’s the monster out to play.

Her eyes widen, and I see her desire pooled in their depths. Her notebook falls to the floor as her hands instinctively come up to grab my wrist, not pulling away, just holding on. She wants to play this game. Wants to make me snap, for me to force her to her knees and take what I give her..

"Look at me," I command, and she does, her green eyes locked on mine as I apply careful pressure to the sides of her throat, restricting blood flow without cutting off her air completely. I know exactly how to hurt without harming. "Repeat what you just said. I dare you."

Her chest rises and falls rapidly, struggling for air that I control. The power of it sends a rush of dark pleasure through me. I could end her right now. Could watch the light fade from those pretty eyes. But that would be wasteful, and I'm not wasteful with things I love.

"I'm waiting, Harbor."

My fingers press harder against her pulse points, feeling her life thrum beneath my touch. My eyes must be black as pitch now—they always darken when the mask slips, when I let her see my demons. Cold calculation replaces whatever warmth she might have seen there before.

Tears gather at the corners of her eyes, but she doesn't look away. Doesn't beg. And somehow, that makes me love her even more.

I ease my grip on her throat, just enough to let her draw a full breath, but keep my fingers pressed against her pulse points. A reminder. Her heartbeat races beneath my touch. And her thighs clench, ever so slightly. I smirk when I notice, and she blushes. There is no escape from me. Harbor's defiance hangs in the air between us, that impossible "maybe someday" that I can never allow to exist.

Her first full breath shudders through her body. I wait for the apology, the backtracking, the fear-laced placation that would show she understands the line she's crossed. My thumb traces her jawline, a lover's caress with violence simmering just beneath.

But Harbor is full of fucking surprises.

Instead of cowering, she meets my gaze directly, her green eyes burning with defiance. "Or what?" she rasps, her voice rough from my grip. "You'll kill me?"

The question hangs between us.Oh? She wants to play, does she?My body goes completely still, the kind of stillness that precedes an avalanche or an earthquake. Something catastrophic. Something inevitable.

A smile spreads across my face—slow, terrible, genuine. I feel it stretch my lips into an expression that has made grown men piss themselves. Harbor doesn't flinch, though her chest heaves. Her bravery is gorgeous. Misplaced, but gorgeous.

"I'll kill you," I agree, leaning closer until my lips are nearly brushing hers, "and then I'll kill myself."

The words taste like a vow on my tongue. Sacred. Irrevocable.

"Ain't no life without you, baby," I continue, my voice dropping to a whisper that fills the space between us. "Just like there's no life for you, without me."

Her pupils dilate as she processes my words, dark pools expanding to swallow the green. She believes me. Because I've never meant anything more in my entire fucked-up life.

"That's—" she starts, then stops. Swallows hard against my loosened grip. "That's not love, Kairo. That's obsession."

I laugh, a soft, dangerous sound that seems to sink into the wooden walls around us. "You say that like they're different things."

My free hand comes up to cup her face, the touch gentle even as my other hand maintains its position at her throat. The contrast isn't lost on her—I can see it in the flicker of her eyes, the way her breath catches. I am both her destruction and her salvation. The sooner she accepts that, the happier we'll both be.

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