Page 52 of Stolen
Something unguarded.
She doesn’t know what that question does to me.
The words are light on her lips, but they strike with deadly precision.
Because yes—gods help me—yes, she’s nailed it.
The bond isn’t one-sided.
It was never meant to be.
I lower my head and kiss her neck, lips brushing the heat of the mark, the pulse of magic still throbbing between us.
She tastes like wild air and the promise of ruin.
I breathe her in and try to lie.
But I can’t.
Not to her.
Not anymore.
My voice breaks the silence. It’s rough, low, barely above a whisper.
“I might just be yours.”
And the second I say it, I know the truth I’ve been dodging has finally caught up to me.
Because I don’t just want her anymore.
I need her.
Not as a pawn.
Not as part of a plan.
But as the one thing I never thought I’d have.
A home.
And that terrifies me more than the SoulTakers ever could.
Chapter11
Jules
The Eyrie—TheBedroom
I wake up alone.
The deep midnight-colored sheets are tangled around my feet, but I’m not cold.
Nope. I’m still warm. Still humming in all the right places.
My body is deliciously sore, like I’ve just danced through a storm and survived with fire in my veins and kisses pressed into my skin like secret spells.
Alaric.
