Page 202 of Intense
He lets out a chuckle.
“It’s funny. People keep saying I’m hurt. Like I’m not already dead inside.”
My chest aches for him.
“You aren’t. I’ve seen that,” I whisper.
“Maybe, if you pass this test, you’ll find out more about me, and then you’ll figure out how wrong you are.”
The door shuts. I’m alone.
Alone with Nyx.
I keep my breathing slow. She’s heavier than I expected, and the warmth of her body seeps into my skin.
I should be terrified. But instead, I’m captivated.
The darkness presses in, swallowing everything except the sound of my own breathing.
Nyx shifts against my arm, her scales cool and impossibly smooth, muscles tightening in a slow wave as she moves higher. Every ripple feels deliberate, like she’s studying me with her body.
Her head brushes my shoulder, tongue flicking, tasting the air around my neck.
I fight the instinct to flinch. Any sudden movement feels like a challenge, and I’m not stupid enough to test her.
My wrists pull lightly against the cuffs, a useless reflex, and the steel bites back. I force myself still.
I’ve always loved snakes. Their silence. Their elegance. The way they move without apology. It’s why I inked one into my skin, coiled in black between my breasts. But loving them from afar and sitting handcuffed in the dark with one draped over me are very different things.
Nyx slides across my collarbone, the shift of her weight making my pulse spike. She’s not heavy enough to crush, but she’s strong enough to remind me she could. Her tail winds loosely around my forearm, not trapping me, just holding me.
Her head lifts, and I feel her presence more than I see her.
The warmth from her body bleeds into mine, almost intimate, her movements unhurried.
Nyx shifts again, this time gliding down over my chest. Her scales whisper against my skin before finding the curve of my hip.
I swallow hard. My breaths are so slow now they’re barely there, like I’m trying to trick her into thinking I’m part of the furniture.
But she knows.
She knows my heartbeat doesn’t match my stillness.
I can feel her reading me the way Finn said she reads him—temperature, pulse, the rhythm of breath. Every tiny shift in my body is hers to interpret.
And I can’t decide if I want her to find me worthy… or if part of me wants her to decide I’m not.
Chapter 67
FINN
Song- Wires, The Neighbourhood
Inever leave the room. I stand with my back against the door, watching them. I’m not even sure I’m breathing.
Nyx is measuring every part of Stephanie. Dragging herself effortlessly along pale skin that almost glows in the dim light.
A fucking picture.
