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But inside me.
I breathe in too sharply, too ragged, the weight of it dragging through my ribs, through my veins, and I know, I know that if I touch her right now, if I let myself sink into the bond, I will hurt her.
Not because I want to. Because I am not made for softness.
She should be afraid of that. She should step back. But she has never known how to retreat.
So she stays.
And I, for all my rage and all my fucking willpower, do not chase her away.
She faces me down, head held high, like she always does. She should step back. She should give me the space I don’t know how to ask for.
But she has never done what I needed her to do. She’s never feared me the way I need her to. Never stayed away the way I begged her to, without ever saying the words.
And now, now, when my bones are brimming with rage, when my skin is too tight, when the bond is a living thing inside me, clawing and restless and screaming for her,
She steps closer. And she dares to hug me.
I go still.
Not the kind of stillness that comes from peace. The kind that comes before impact. Before something shatters, before something is irreversible.
Because she is touching me. Because she is warm. Because I want to sink into her so badly, it makes my entire body ache.
Her arms wind around me, easy, effortless, like she doesn’t know what she’s just done. Like she doesn’t realize what she’s just asked for. Her cheek presses against my chest, and I feel her breath, steady, unshaken, and it kills me, it fucking kills me, because no one has touched me like this in,
I don’t know how long.
For one awful, unraveling second, I don’t want to pull away.
But I do.
Roughly. Sharply. I push her back, just enough to put space between us, just enough to remind her who I am, who she is, what we are not.
Her hands drop, but she doesn’t move away. Her eyes flick up to mine, and fuck, she’s searching me. Looking for something I won’t let her find.
My throat works around something sharp, something I refuse to let out.
I need to say something. Something to ruin this moment. Something to put that damn distance back between us.
So I scoff, forcing my mouth into something cruel. “What the hell was that?”
Her brows lift, slow, unimpressed. “A hug, Riven.”
I drag a hand through my hair, fingers pulling hard, grounding me in the sting. “Don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
Why not?
Because I liked it. Because I wanted more. Because it made something inside me twist, shift, settle in a way I wasn’t ready for.
I glare at her. “Because I said so.”
She tilts her head, voice soft but unrelenting. “And since when do I listen to you?”
I clench my jaw. Because I have no answer for that. Because she’s never listened. And I think, deep down, I never wanted her to.