Page 286 of His To Erase
The first sob hits before I can stop it. Then another. And another. And suddenly I’m full-on falling apart and there’s no getting it back under control.
My fingers bunch in his shirt, like if I let go I’ll hit the floor. So I don’t. I hold on. I press my face into him and just—let it happen. No more pretending I’m fine. No more acting like this didn’t wreck me. I let it break me, right there in his arms.
His arms tighten around me like they were built to cage this kind of wreckage, and he holds me.
One of his hands slides into my hair while the other wraps tight around my waist, anchoring me. His mouth finds my ear, as he whispers the only three things I think I’ve ever really needed to hear.
“I’ve got you.”
“It’s over.”
“You’re safe.”
When I finally lift my head, his eyes are already on me. He’s looking at me like he’d burn the whole world down just to keep me breathing.
“You came,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
His hand brushes his thumb across my cheek, wiping away a tear I didn’t realize had fallen.
“There was never a world where I wouldn’t.”
And then—God help me—he smiles. That quiet, wrecked kind of smile that feels like it was built just for me.
“For the record?” he mutters, kissing the side of my head. “I know I was tied to a fucking chair, but I did say don’t go anywhere.” His arm tightens around me. “Didn’t think I’d wake up in a basement while you were out burning down a goddamn club.”
A stunned laugh tears out of my chest—half-choked, and just a little unhinged. “You’re such an asshole.”
He leans in, pressing his forehead to mine, his voice is low and maddeningly steady. “Yeah? Well, I love you too.”
My heart flatlines.
“Steven…”
“I love you, Ani.” He says it again—slower this time, like he wants me to hear every damn word.
His hands come up to cup my face, and my throat tightens like my body already knows what’s coming.
“You’re mine,” he murmurs, kissing my cheek. “And I’m yours. And the second we get out of here, we’re having a very long, very serious conversation about communication.”
Then he kisses me—hard. All fire and frustration and every ounce of fury and devotion that’s been building since the second we met. When he finally pulls back, his voice drops. “Starting with how you don’t disappear without telling me where the fuck you’re going. Ever again.”
I blink at him, still breathless. “Did you seriously just threaten me with a feelings conversation?”
“Absolutely.” He kisses me again. “You can cry, hit me, climb me—whatever you gotta do, but we’re not doing this halfway shit anymore.”
Anymore? So he’s been all in this whole time… and I’ve been the one holding back?
His thumb drags across my bottom lip like he’s memorizing the shape of it. “You and me, dear,” he says, and his voice is doing that growly thing again. “It’s murder-suicide do us part at this point.”
The words shouldn’t make my chest ache, my stomach flip or my pulse stutter. But they do. Because it’s him. This is the language we speak—chaos, violence, and devotion stitched together with blood and bruises.
My throat tightens. God, I hate how much I need him.
“That sounds a lot like a proposal,” I manage, even though my voice is barely there.
Steven grins—and it’s all teeth. I’m so fucked. I’m also so in love it hurts to look at him.
“Good,” he says, stepping closer until there’s no space left. “Because I’m not letting you go.”
