Page 73 of Daman
“No. It’s your turn to listen while I speak.” He gripped the side of my neck. “I know close to nothing about love and romance. Before you, I never wanted to know. But now that I’ve had a taste of it, of you, I never want to go back to how I used to be. I never want to know a day where you’re not beside me.”
“You can’t feel that strongly already. It’s too soon.”
“Don’t tell me what I can or can’t feel. Because I only needed a single moment to know I belong to you.” Warrin ghosted his lips across mine, fingers tightening in my hair. “Do you belong to me?”
The backs of my eyes burned with tears. “War…”
“Answer me.”
“Y-Yes. But—”
“Do you want to see where this can go? Wherewecan go? More than politics or war. More than duty. Do you want to build something real with me?”
“We shouldn’t.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
My sternum tightened. Did I want to give myself to Warrin, completely and without reserve? Did I want him to give himself to me too? Shoving everything else aside—Envy’s words and my own fears of intimacy—only one answer felt right.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Then stop fighting this,kotya.” Warrin lightly kissed me, hand still moving through my hair. “You’re not a burden. You’re not an anchor that will drag me down. I chose you, remember? Only you.”
“That was before you actually knew me.”
“You’re right. I want you more now.”
And then he crushed me to his chest.
The dam inside me finally broke, releasing the things I’d only ever kept locked up, and I cried. Fuck, how I cried. I tried to tell him that I wasn’t worth the trouble, that Envy forced me to say and do hateful shit, but I couldn’t speak. I could barely even breathe.
Warrin murmured in Russian and dropped kisses to my neck, jaw, and temple, telling me that I was precious, that I was beautiful. I held on to him, breathing in his familiar scent. A scent I was already addicted to.
Envy was quiet.
“Will you fuck me?” I nuzzled his neck, needing the closeness. The intimacy. “Please?”
I wanted to escape for a while, from everything except for him.
Warrin carried me over to the couch, gently laying me down on the cushions. Without saying a word, he pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the floor before removing mine as well. He tugged off my pants and shoved his down far enough to release his cock. Our mouths met as his long fingers dipped inside to open me, one at first, then a second.
Neither of us spoke.
Our bodies did the talking for us.
The lube was still in the living room from last night, and he made quick work of slicking his cock before pushing into me. I stared up at him, caressing his sharp jaw as the couch creaked with his slow thrusts.
There were things I couldn’t yet say. I didn’t know how to. I had shattered earlier. And as Warrin claimed my lips, his body moving inside of mine, those fractured pieces began to mend back together, but in a new way. Like I had to break in order to finally feel whole.
He was my mate. I knew it without a doubt. As much as I wanted to keep fighting—resisting—my resolve was weakening.
Warrin groaned and pumped his hips faster. I locked my arms around his lower back and whimpered.
Once you accepted a mate—not only in your mind and heart, but in your very soul—there was no escape. No turning back. I crept closer to that metaphysical precipice, one I could never return from once I tumbled over the edge.
What waited on the other side of forever?
The answer was a jump away.
