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Her shoulders tremble once. Then she steps into me, burying her face in my chest. And gods help me, I hope to every star still watching thatI’m enoughto hold her through what’s coming next. I hold her like I used to hold broken truths. Carefully. Knowing the weight of them could shatter through the bones if I didn’t cradle them just right. And this, this isn’t just comfort. This is a moment I owe her.

She deserves thewholestory. Even the parts that taste like ash.

“Lust,” I murmur, my voice low against her hair, “is simple. Lust is an impulse. It flares. It feeds. It fades.”

She doesn’t move, but I feel the shift in her, her breath stalling, her attention anchoring to every word.

“But Theo,” I say, “isn’t lust. He’sdesire, raw, ravenous, and relentless. The ache under the want. The thing you crave even when it kills you.”

I ease her back so I can see her eyes.

“He doesn’t tempt,” I say. “Hestarves. Until the need burns through everything you thought you were. That’s his sin. He doesn’t show you something new. He shows you what you’ve buried. What you never wanted anyone to see. And he makes youneed it.”

Her brows knit, jaw tight. “So he manipulates.”

“No.” I shake my head. “He doesn’t have to. That’s the worst part. Hereveals. He exposes what’s already there. The pieces you deny. The ones that rot in the dark.”

She takes a slow breath, but her spine straightens as if readying for a fight. That’s my girl.

“What did he reveal in you?” she asks.

I don’t flinch. I don’t look away.

“That I wanted to be worshipped,” I say simply. “Not loved. Not honored.Worshipped.I wanted power without responsibility. Knowledge without burden. To be followed. To be obeyed.”

Her eyes flick over my face, like she’s looking for something human in the monster I just handed her.

I let her look.

“Desire,” I say softly, “isn’t about sex. It’s aboutcraving.Power. Vengeance. Belonging. Peace. Chaos. He finds the thing you don’t admit to even yourself, and then youachefor it.”

Her throat works. “That’s what he’d do to me?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “That’s what terrifies us.”

Her gaze hardens. “And that’s why you buried him.”

I nod. “He was too much. Too fast. Too precise. We weren’t ready to face what he uncovered in us. So we turned our backs.”

She’s quiet for a long time. Her fingers twist in the fabric at my chest.

Then she says, “So if he looks at me and sees what I crave... and I don’t even know what it is,”

“Then that’s your choice to face,” I finish gently. “Or to walk away from.”

Her jaw flexes.

“And if I do walk away?”

I exhale slowly, brushing a thumb along her wrist.

“Then we’ll set the whole fucking world on fire before we let him take another step toward you.”

She leans her forehead into mine, and there’s nothing gentle in it. It’s a collision of faith and fury, of two people who’ve carried too much for too long.

And still, she’s mine. But for how long, if Theo starts tounravelher?

That’s what will keep me awake now. Not fear. But what will she choose if he’s the only one who finally shows her what she’s always wanted?