Page 84 of Break Her Heart
The words tumbled out before I fully processed what they meant. And when I did, it hit me like a punch to the chest.
Hecouldhave stopped me.
He’d watched me fall apart. Watched me break. Let me make the choice that nearly cost me everything—him included. My throat tightened, a flicker of betrayal sparked somewhere deep in my chest. But then again would I have been okay with him taking a choice from me?
No. I wouldn’t have been able to forgive him if he manipulated me like that. It had to be my decision. Right or wrong, it needed to be mine.
Still, the weight of it lingered.
“But I didn’t,” he said quietly as he pulled me back into bed. “Even when you signed my death sentence.”
His voice had barely settled in the air when his hand slipped beneath the blanket, fingers brushing the inside of my thigh. My breath hitched, and I hated how instinctively my legs parted for him.
I didn’t stop him. Not at first.
His palm smoothed upward, teasingly close. I exhaled sharply, muscles tightening for all the wrong reasons. I shoved his hand away.
“The mood’s gone,” I said, not nearly nearly as firm as I wanted it to be.
He moved closer anyway, his breath brushing my jaw. “Come on, Winnie,” he whispered, mouth almost against my ear. “I said I’d never use compulsion on you. Are you going to make me a liar now?”
The words sank into me like a hook. My body betrayed me first—leaning into him, my thighs tightening. That intoxicating heat swelled between us again, and any resistance I had left crumbled.
I gave in.
* * *
Later, I lay in bed with my head on his chest, tracing slow circles across the hard lines of his abdomen. His arm was draped around my back, the other hand sliding slowly through my hair in a rhythm that made it hard to think.
“Can other vampires do that?” I asked softly.
“No,” he murmured as if he had no doubt that compulsion was still on my mind. “I’m the only one.”
“Are there other gifts some have?”
“No. It’s just me.”
I tilted my head slightly, feeling his fingers pause briefly in my hair before moving again, gentler now.
“You’re also stronger.”
“Stronger than Carrow was in my father’s body, too.”
He didn’t say it with pride—just quiet certainty. But it carried weight, and I could feel the truth in his voice. Not just strength, but something lonelier. The burden of being different, even among monsters.
“Why is that? Do you think it has to do with being the oldest?” I asked.
“Huh.” August let out a breath that was almost a laugh, but not quite. “I guess it never came up.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m the youngest of my siblings.”
I pushed myself up, brows knitting. “What? Then why are you the one that’s next in line?”
He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, as if sorting through old dust-covered memories. “Benedict is the oldest and was originally the heir. Then came Simon, Lavina, and Corwin. All by different mothers. All from Malachi, my father. Simon and Lavina were born only months apart—that’s why they’re so close. They were raised together. Benedict was already grown when they were born, and Corwin came a century after that. They were all born before Carrow took over my father’s body.”
“But you weren’t,” I said softly.
