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It’s easier said than done. I know that. Anex has been in our brains for years. In the way we use our bodies, but he’s gone and all I want is this woman. My heart nearly bursts when she adds, “I just want to feel something other than this aching fear.”

I know it. I feel it. Our whole world has been turned upside down, it’s scary as fuck. I want Elon here to protect us, and Rex to tell us what to do and Levi to make sure we’re doing it right. They’re not here, but we can comfort one another. Bending, I capture her mouth in mine, and glide my fingers between her legs until they brush against her clit.

She’s sticky, ready, but I kiss her temple and ask, “How do you want it?”

Our eyes lock and I know she wants to tell me to decide for her—that she doesn’t know—but my girl knows her body. What it can tolerate and what gives her the most pleasure.

“It doesn’t matter. As long as you’re with me.”

I ruck up her shirt, lifting it over her head. I palm her tit with one hand, firm but not too much. I know they’re tender. Then lick the nipple of the other, working it into a hard peek. When her back arches, I look up and ask, “That good?”

She nods, eyes closed and lifted to the ceiling. “So good.”

I haven’t fucked anyone since Imogene. That would’ve been too easy for me to lose myself into. Anex sent me there to pimp out the Fallen—force me to be the one that made the trades for their bodies. It would’ve hurt less to have done it myself.

But fuck, those weeks of celibacy have made my dick ridiculously hard and I lift her, setting her ass on the table. I drop my pants, kicking out of them and nudge her inner thigh. She spreads for me like the wings of a butterfly, and I hike one leg over my hip. A deep shudder rolls through me as her fingertips touch me for the first time in weeks, spreading precum over the head of my swollen cock. I don’t wait for permission, I just kiss her, mouth crashing into hers as I push into her wet, tight, pussy. She gasps, followed by an exhale and she takes me in deeper.

“You okay?” I ask, searching her eyes. “You have to talk to me.”

“I’m good,” she says, fingers curling into the hair at the back of my neck. “You always make this good for me, Silas. Always.”

I draw out, then punch back in again, wincing. “I hope you’re ready, because I won’t last long.”

“You don’t have to.” Her jaw slacks and I ease my hand between us, reaching for the spot that makes her pant.

“Lean back,” I tell her, reaching behind her to clear off the table. Plates and discarded Pop-Tarts push to the side. Leaning her back, it gives me space to trail my lips down her chest, to kiss those bruises, to suck her perfect nipples, to kiss my way down her flat, smooth, stomach.

“Silas,” she hums. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” I promise, flattening my tongue over her nipple. Her hips buck against me, fucking back in a frantic rhythm. I feel the sharp pain of her nails as they dig into my shoulders, legs spreading, allowing me in as deep as I can go. “I won’t ever stop. I won’t stop cherishing you. Protecting you.” I lick her mouth. “Making love to you.”

Because that’s the difference. The depravity Anex encouraged wasn’t about something good. It was about greed and lust. This—what Imogene and I are doing is about love. That makes the pain worth bearing.

She pulls me close, until there’s nothing between us, her body writhing against mine. I pound into her, wanting to feel every inch of her fall apart in my arms.

“Ah!” she cries, back arching, pussy clenching tight. Every muscle in her body tenses, rigid with release. I ride it out with her, thrusting everything I’ve been holding back for weeks, the fear, the rage, the disappointment, the loss. I pound into her body—into the woman that makes me feel real—the woman I amneverletting go.

Hugging her to me, I come, the tight grip of her pussy milking my release. “Fuck,” I grunt, her hair sticky on my face. I pull back and look at her red cheeks and shiny eyes. I close my fingers around her chin. “That was me and you,” I tell her. “All of us. No one else. No one gets to claim that, especially not him. Do you understand?”

“I do.” I don’t know if she really does, but I plan to spend every day we have together proving it to her.

After we redress, Imogene follows me to the toaster. I unwrap the pastries and she pops them in the slots. The door opens at the front of the house as I push down the lever. Turning, I see Camille. A tense line slashes across her forehead.

“Good, you’re awake,” she says, gripping the door jamb. “We need to go.”

“Go?” Imogene asks. “What’s wrong?”

She shifts her hips. “Agent McNair thinks it’s best for you both to move somewhere more secure.”

The hair on the back of my neck rises and I rest a hand on Imogene’s hip. “Has he made a move?”

“She hasn’t told me, but I’d assume something has changed.” Her eyes dart to her daughter. “I don’t want you to leave, but we know he’s aware of this place. He sent the package.”

“It’s fine,” Imogene says stiffly, then looks at me with soft eyes. “As long as we’re together.”

“Always.” I grab her hand and kiss the back. “Go grab whatever we’ve got upstairs. I’ll clean up.”

She nods, and exits the room, leaving me and Camille alone.