Chapter 45 · If I kiss you

"Liar."

"Yes."

The answer landed between us. Plain. Ugly. Real.

I stepped into him until my chest brushed his. His hand slid from my wrist to my waist, not forcing me, just holding on like he needed proof I was still there.

His breath touched my cheek.

"If I kiss you," I said, "it isn't forgiveness."

"I know."

"It isn't an apology for the things you hid."

"I know."

"And it doesn't mean you own me because your ancestors carved their names into my blood."

His fingers tightened against my waist. "I know that too."

I grabbed the front of his coat and pulled him down.

His mouth met mine hard.

No tenderness. No pretty promise. Just heat, breath, and the sharp taste of blood between us. He kissed me like he had been holding himself back for too long, then stopped the second I pushed against his chest.

I kept my fist in his coat.

"I choose what happens next," I whispered.

His forehead rested against mine. "Then choose."

"I choose to write the next chapter myself.