Page 203 of Corrupting Camille
Reina’s dark eyes hold mine fiercely, her voice steady, raw with the truth she’s never been allowed to deny. “It’s not meant to be gentle, Camille. You don’t love a man like Kane because he’s safe. You love him because his soul matches yours in places you’re afraid to admit exist.”
Marisol shifts slightly, her gaze haunted with memories I can’t even begin to fathom. “We watched our mother lose parts of herself she’ll never get back, watched her smile for us when all she wanted to do was break down. Because that’s what you do when the man you love lives and breathes violence.”
My chest squeezes tight, my breath trembling as their truths burrow deep. Kane glances toward me again, eyes locked with a fierce possessiveness that feels as vital as my heartbeat, as permanent as scars.
God, he’s beautiful in the shadows, beautiful and devastating, his gaze alone a silent promise that he will always, always come for me.
Even when it hurts.
Especially when it hurts.
“I never meant to fall in love with him,” I whisper, more to myself than them, voice thick with a grief I didn’t know I carried. “But it’s too late now, isn’t it?”
Marisol smiles, sad but sure, squeezing my hand tightly. “It was too late the moment he decided you were his.”
Reina leans closer, voice fierce with quiet urgency. “Camille, men like Kane aren’t made to be gentle. They aren’t made for soft, easy love. They’re built for war. For survival. And when they finally love, when they finally choose, it’s with a violence, an intensity, that consumes everything. Even them.”
I realize suddenly, inescapably, that there’s no turning back from this. Kane has rewritten every line of my fate, branded himself into the marrow of my bones. Loving him is a violence unto itself, brutal, consuming, unapologetic. But it’s also loyalty that refuses to waver, refuses to fade, even when the whole world begs me to run.
And despite the fear, despite the raw, aching uncertainty, I know I’m already lost. Bound irrevocably to a man whose darkness could swallow me whole, whose love could break me beyond repair.
But maybe that’s exactly why I’ll stay.
Because no one else could ever love me this deeply, this violently.
This completely.
Just then, Lucia crashes into the conversation like a spark.
“Tío Kane!” she calls, darting past the tables and through the dancers, wild curls bouncing, mouth stretched in a grin too wide for her face.
I look over and see him instantly, backlit by golden light, talking with Diego, whiskey in hand. His posture shifts the second he hears her. Straightens. Sharpens.
Lucia barrels into him, all limbs and attitude. He picks her up like its instinct, strong arms catching her mid-run and spinning her once.
“Te estás portando bien?” he asks, voice lower, affection barely hidden.
Lucia shrugs dramatically. “Más o menos.”
Marisol grins beside me. “She’s the only person in the world who gets away with being a smartass to him.”
“He’d let her burn the house down,” Reina agrees. “She’s the one soft spot he’s never tried to hide.”
I watch them together, Kane’s hand cupping the back of her head, her arms slung around his neck, and something inside me aches.
Not with jealousy.
With knowing.
Because the girl who can pull smiles from monsters isn’t afraid of the dark.
And the woman who loves one?
She can’t be either.
***
Lucia runs back into the crowd a few minutes later, yelling at some boy cousin about her turn at the speaker.
