Page 87 of You Were Always Mine
“You’re all I think about,” she whispers. “Even when I hate myself for it. Even when I try to stop. It’s still you.”
The words cut through me sharper than anything else could. My forehead rests against hers, and I breathe her in like I’ll die if I don’t.
“You’ll ruin me,” I murmur, dragging my mouth across her temple. “And I’ll thank you for it.”
Her lips brush my shoulder, clumsy and broken, and she exhales, “Then we’ll ruin each other.”
Her breath hitches when I nuzzle into her hair, my mouth still trembling from the things I said, from the wreck I’ve made of us. For one long second, it feels almost gentle—like maybe we could breathe here, sink into the quiet, pretend.
But I ruin it. I always do.
My hand drifts lower, spanning her hip, fingers biting hard enough she’ll find the marks in the morning. “You think you can ever walk away after this?” I whisper, voice all gravel and smoke, dragging each word slow against her ear. “After I’ve been inside you, after you’ve soaked me in every way a girl can? No, Scar. I won’t fucking let you.”
Her lips part like she wants to argue, but all that comes out is a soft, fractured whimper. I eat it up.
“You can cry, you can hate me, you can try to bury thisin shame,” I keep going, my mouth grazing down her throat, dark and steady. “But your body already gave you away. You’ll never belong to anyone else. You’re mine now, and I’ll break every bone in my body before I let you forget it.”
Her nails dig into my back, a weak scratch that betrays her. I can feel her trembling, torn between fear and the way her thighs still cling to me like she doesn’t want me to move.
“Say it,” I murmur, harsher now, pulling her chin so her eyes meet mine. “Say you know you’re mine.”
Her head shakes, stubborn even as her body trembles under my grip, her lips pressed tight like she can keep me out if she just refuses to speak.
It kills me. It makes me ravenous.
I grip her harder, jaw pressed to her temple, my breath unsteady against her skin. “Don’t do this,” I rasp, the words rawer than I want them to sound. “Don’t you dare shut me out. Don’t you fucking leave me, Scar.”
She tries to turn away, but I catch her face in my palm, forcing her to look at me. My thumb drags across her damp cheek, smearing the tears. “You don’t understand what happens if you walk. You don’t want to see me without you. You don’t. I’ll burn this entire world to ash before I let it take you from me.”
Her breath comes in shallow gasps, her silence sharp as a blade, but I press closer, almost frantic now. My forehead knocks against hers, desperate, ugly, real.
“Say something,” I beg, voice breaking into gravel. “Say you’ll stay. Lie to me if you have to. Just don’t—don’t make me imagine you gone.”
Her lips tremble. For a second, I think she’ll spit venomagain. But then she closes her eyes, and her voice shatters on a whisper, “I’m here.”
And it isn’t enough. It will never be enough.
I crush her against me anyway, clutching her like I can weld her bones to mine. “Not just here,” I mutter, almost incoherent. “Mine. Mine, Scar. Forever mine.”
Her silence guts me. Every second she doesn’t answer, I feel the edge fray inside me, snapping strand by strand until I’m nothing but nerves and fire.
My hand fists in her hair, tugging her head back, not to hurt her—no, to make her look at me, to make her see what she’s doing. My chest is heaving, my voice shaking like it can’t decide if it’s a threat or a plea.
“Don’t you dare, Scar. Don’t you dare even think about walking away from me.” My words grind against her ear, each one trembling with something that feels like madness. “You don’t understand—I can’t—” My teeth clench, the confession ripping through me raw. “If you leave me, I’ll lose it. I’ll make this world bleed for it. Don’t test me. Don’t fucking test me.”
Her lips part like she wants to argue, but I shake her, my forehead pressed to hers, our noses brushing, my breath breaking against her mouth.
“Promise me,” I growl, almost unhinged now. “Say it. Say you’ll never leave. Don’t make me become something you can’t survive. Don’t make me—” I choke on the rest, the words too jagged to spit out.
Her tears spill hot against my thumb. Her body trembles like a violin string about to snap. And then she shatters, whispering into my mouth, her voice small and broken:
“I’ll never leave you, Kai. I swear. Never.”
The sound of it drops me to my knees inside, a knifeand a balm all at once. I crush her tighter, my lips dragging over her hair, her temple, the corner of her mouth, as if I can brand the vow into her skin.
“Good girl,” I rasp, voice shredded. “Mine forever. You can’t take it back now. You promised. You’ll always be mine. And if you try to leave…” my voice cracks into something broken, dangerous, “I’ll make sure there’s nowhere left for you to run.”
Scarlett
