Page 58 of Hellfire to Come
She smiled. Faint. Crooked. A curve of pain and gratitude both.
And this time, she leaned her forehead against mine.
“If it comes down to it,” she whispered, “we’ll tear it apart together, then.”
And I knew deep down to the marrow of my bones that she meant it.
She wasn’t bluffing. She never had been. If the world demanded her blood again, she’d bleed for it. But this time, she wouldn’t do it alone. Not if I had breath left in my body. Wewould tear through the veil of fate itself. Rip down the heavens and unmake every damn law written in fire and bone if that’s what it took.
Even if it killed us.
And in the sacred quiet that followed, I held her closer, felt the uneven rhythm of her heartbeat sync slowly with mine. I let the silence settle not like a burden, but like a vow. One I intended to keep no matter what came next.
Because we weren’t done yet.
And gods help anyone who thought they could take her from me again.
Chapter Twenty-Three
BROOKLYN
In slow, deliberate waves, I became aware of Dominic’s body pressed to mine—solid, grounding, real. His breath ghosted over my lips with each exhale, warm and steady, a lifeline in the lingering dark. It was as if the world had narrowed to just this: the cadence of his breathing, the faint thrum of his heartbeat against my chest, the way his presence filled the space around me with silent, unyielding devotion.
My body, aching and frayed at the edges, pushed away everything else, the lingering pain, the dizzying exhaustion, even the roiling uncertainty. All of it receded, eclipsed by the gravity of him. Every nerve in me, every flicker of awareness, redirected toward him with single-minded clarity, like a compass needle finding true north.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.
My soul knew his voice even in silence. And my body answered his nearness not with fear or hesitation but with aching familiarity. A recognition deeper than blood or bond.
In the hush that followed, I remained still. Wrapped in the quiet gravity of him. My forehead rested lightly against his, the smallest space between us charged with heat, with tension, withsomething far older than the bond that tied us. This wasn’t desire born from adrenaline or circumstance. This was the deep, aching need of one soul recognizing its other half and daring, finally, to reach for it.
His hand slid slowly up my back, the calluses on his palm catching the fabric of my shirt as if even his fingers didn’t trust this moment to last. He held me like I might dissolve in his arms. Like if he let go, I would slip back into the darkness and never return.
“You’re still trembling,” he murmured against my cheek, his voice rough, velveted with concern.
“Not from fear,” I whispered. “Not anymore.”
His fingers stilled. Then curled tighter.
I tilted my head just enough that our mouths hovered in the same breath, close, but not touching. A held note waiting to resolve. My lips were parted, breath shallow, the ache of anticipation shimmering just beneath my skin. I could feel the pulse in his neck. Could feel how tightly he held himself still.
And that restraint… it undid me.
Because I knew how hard it was for him. To want and not take. To burn and not consume.
“You can touch me,” I said, the words barely more than breath. “I’m here. I’m not breaking.”
His hand came to my jaw slowly, reverently. His thumb traced the curve of my cheekbone like it was sacred, likeIwas sacred. That reverence was the most devastating thing about him. Dominic had teeth. He had claws. He had a past bathed in blood and fury. But when he touched me… it was always like this. As if I were the last star in his sky and he had only one lifetime left to worship me.
He kissed me then. Not hard, not urgent, but deep. Slow. Anchoring.
His mouth moved over mine like a vow. No promises spoken, yet each brush of his lips said everything: I’m here. I see you. I won’t let go.
I melted into him, my hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt, dragging him closer until nothing remained between us but skin and breath and the heat building like a storm about to break. The taste of him, warm, earthy, wild, slid over my tongue and I moaned quietly into the kiss, a sound that made him shudder.
Dominic responded with a low growl, the sound vibrating against my mouth as his other hand found my waist, pulling me fully into his lap. The pressure of his body against mine lit something deeper, more primal, a hunger coiled in my belly I hadn’t let myself feel in too long.
Still, he didn’t rush. His touch never lost that reverence.
