Page 196 of Corrupting Camille
My lips twitch, faintly amused. “Something important.”
She watches me cautiously, tracing invisible paths across my chest with delicate fingers. “Tell me.”
My heart drums unevenly beneath her touch, a strange sense of exposure making me tighten my hold. “I want you to meet my family.”
She goes perfectly still, her breath halting for just a heartbeat before resuming a little faster, uncertain. When she tilts her head back, her eyes search mine in the dimness, wary, hopeful, guarded. Vulnerable.
“You mean it?” Her voice is small, edged with disbelief and something fragile, almost breakable.
I catch her chin softly, tipping her face higher until the faint moonlight dances across her features. “I don’t bring people into my world, Camille. You know that.” My thumb strokes the curve of her cheekbone. “But you…you belong in every corner of it.”
A tremor slips through her. “Will they like me?” she whispers, vulnerability flickering through her voice like an ache she’s afraid to admit.
My heart twists, fierce and possessive, at the uncertainty in her tone. I gather her closer, holding her tighter as if to shield her from every harm.
“They’ll love you,” I murmur, voice rough with sincerity. “Because I do, and they’ll see exactly why.”
Her hand slides up my chest, settling over my heart, feeling its ruthless rhythm beneath her touch. Her words come softly, uncertain and delicate, yet stronger than steel.
“You promise?”
I cup her jaw gently, kissing her slowly, deeply, letting her feel every unspoken vow in the tenderness of my touch.
“I promise, Camille,” I whisper against her lips, a rare honesty threading my voice. “They’ll see you’re the only good thing the darkness ever brought me.”
She sighs softly, melting against me, her fingers tightening possessively. “I…I can’t wait to meet them.”
Camille
I step slowly down the stairs, heels clicking softly on polished marble. The sound echoes softly, chasing my pulse, quick, jittery, reckless. I grip the railing tighter, swallowing down the nerves tangling through me. It’s just Kane downstairs. Kane, whose hands know my secrets better than my own skin. Kane, who’s seen me stripped raw, shattered, rebuilt, and who still craves more of the pieces.
But today feels different. Today, he’s giving me something he guards fiercely: a glimpse into his world. His family.
And I don’t know what scares me more, that I’ll disappoint them, or that I won’t.
Pausing near the bottom, I smooth my palms down the shimmering fabric of my dress. Gold, liquid-soft silk hugs my curves, draping effortlessly down my body like it was stitched for me. Knowing Kane, it probably was.
My curls are piled high, pinned loosely enough to let stray tendrils brush my bare shoulders, my neck. And my perfume…God, when I found it waiting for me…a fresh bottle of vanilla, neroli, jasmine, my scent, my armor, I nearly collapsed. How he found it, knew it was mine, is beyond me. But Kane doesn’t do coincidences. He does intention, obsession, possession. My scent on me, his gift, another invisible chain between us.
The air shifts suddenly, a prickle on the back of my neck. I turn my head slowly, heart stalling as my gaze collides with his. He stands by the doorway, all dark shadows and violent beauty, his stare fixed on me, hot, intense, stripping me bare from a distance.
Heat races under my skin, my cheeks warming beneath his scrutiny.
“Camille.” His voice is low, gravelly, possessive. A caress. A warning.
I step forward, my sandals clicking softly. “Do I look okay?” My voice comes quieter than I wanted, betraying how much I need his answer.
He doesn’t reply right away. He just stares, devouring me inch by careful inch. My pulse jumps, restless and aching under his silence. He crosses the room slowly, predatory grace defining every step, until he stands inches away.
“You’re perfection,” he finally murmurs, eyes locked on mine, voice raw and edged with something like awe. His fingers brush lightly down my jaw, tracing my throat, sliding softly along my collarbone, igniting every nerve along the way.
A shiver slips down my spine. “The perfume,” I whisper, barely breathing, “how did you…?”
“I pay attention.” His thumb grazes the pulse hammering wildly at the hollow of my neck. “I remember every detail that matters. And everything about you matters.”
My breath stutters, lungs tight. He tips my chin higher, forcing my gaze up to meet his again.
“Are you ready?” he asks, voice gentle but laced with steel.
