Page 97 of Teach Me to Fly

“That’s not fair.”

“No, what’s not fair is pretending like you’re okay watching me fall apart and then asking me to offload my pain to someone else because you’re tired.”

“I’m not tired of you,” he snaps. “I’m scared of losing you.”

I stare at him, trembling, as he exhales hard, dragging a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t want to be enough for you? That I haven’t fucking tried? I would bleed for you. Ihavebled for you. But watching you destroy yourself, not being able to stop it, not knowing how? That’s killing me, Angel.”

“Well, Reign,” I say, my voice cracking as I whisper. “It’s the only thing I’m good at, so maybe you shouldn’t watch.”

He blinks, hurt flashing in his eyes, but I turn my back on him anyway and walk out of the house.

Chapter 35

Reign

Istand in the middle of her room, her scent still hanging in the air even after she walked out. My chest feels tight, my lungs barely working as her last words ricochet in my head like stray bullets.

‘Maybe you shouldn’t watch’,as if she doesn’t know I’d die before I ever looked away.

I drag both hands through my hair before I hear the telltale sound of rain hitting the roof. The front door is wide open when I bolt outside, and through the downpour, I spot her silhouette as she stalks down the path toward the gardens, arms crossed over her chest, shoulders hunched.

“Angelique.” My voice is rough, torn open, but she doesn’t turn around.

I catch up to her fast, boots slamming through puddles, and grab her upper arm. She tries to pull away, but I tug her gently into my chest and wrap my arms around her like a fucking vice.

“I’m not letting you walk away from me,” I shout through the loudness of the rain. “Not again.”

“Let me go,” she chokes out, her voice soaked in tears. “Please, Reign, just let me?—”

“No.” I hold her tighter, one hand cradling the back of her head. “You’re hurting, and I get it. But if pain is the only thing that makes you feel alive right now... then let me be a part of it. Let me help you do it safely, like before. Don’t go through it alone.”

She looks up at me—eyes red-rimmed, soaked lashes clinging together, rain dripping down her cheeks like tears—and I crash my mouth against hers. She gasps into the kiss, startled, but then she kisses me back just as desperately, clutching my soaked shirt in both fists.

The rain is pouring between us, our lips sliding and clashing, and there’s nothing delicate about it. It’s everything we’ve been holding in and holding back, spilling out all at once. And when I finally pull back, we’re both breathless.

I press my forehead to hers and whisper, “You don’t have to be okay right now, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Her lips part, and her breath catches like she wasn’t expecting that I hadn’t given up on her yet. Silence stretches between us until finally she gives me a single nod.

My hands are still shaking as I slide my fingers through hers and turn us around, leading her back toward the house where I can take care of her properly.

We barely make it through the front door before I press her against it, hands braced on either side of her head, trying to get a grip on the storm inside me. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her lips parted, eyes already glazed with that familiar pull—equal parts fear and need.

“You sure you want this?” I ask, voice low, guttural.

She nods, then swallows. “I need to feel something that isn’t... this.”

I lead her down the hall, letting the tension climb between us with every step. Once we’re in my bedroom, I close the door behind us and turn the lock, settling something feral inside me. This is our space. No one gets in, and no one touches her but me.

She stands near the foot of the bed, her wet shirt clinging to her frame, rain dripping from her curls. I take off my coat, toss it aside, and reach into the drawer for my knife. The blade glints under the low lamplight as I flip it open.

She shudders when I kneel between her legs. “Sit,” I say.

She obeys, hands gripping the edge of the bed as I take my time running my hands up her thighs, feeling the tremble in her skin. Her eyes never leave mine as I inch her shirt up slowly and kiss her bare stomach, soft and warm, then lift her arm—the one she cuts—and press my lips to the healed scars, causing her to shudder again.

“I missed this,” I murmur against her skin. “All of you. Even the broken parts.”

I look up at her then, and she’s already breathless. Her eyes are dark, lips parted, and her pupils are blown wide with arousal and vulnerability. And fuck… she’s never looked more beautiful.

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