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DORIAN

E ven though part of Dorian wanted to fall at her feet and kiss the dirt she’d walked to get back here, the other part, stronger and steadier, was done being her landing pad only when the ghosts got too loud.

He cleared his throat, low and rough.

“You don’t get to keep doing this though,” he said, not harsh, but not soft either.

Her head jerked up. “What?”

“Coming here. Leaving. Coming back again like I’m just— here —waiting to be convenient.”

Autumn stiffened, shoulders rising like a drawbridge. “I didn’t mean for it to be like that.”

“Well, it is like that.” His voice cracked at the edges, sharp as a splinter.

“You come into my life like lightning, burn everything clean, and then vanish the second it starts to feel real.” He turned to face her now, eyes storm-dark. “And I’ve let it happen. Over and over.”

“I needed time,” she said, voice small but hard. “You knew that.”

“I gave you time, Autumn. I gave you space. I carved your damn name into wood.”

Her eyes went glassy, and he hated the way that gutted him.

“You think this is easy for me?” she snapped, voice shaking now. “You think I wanted to run?”

“I think you did what you’ve always done. What you said you were done doing.”

“I was scared.”

“I am too! ” he shouted, standing now, pacing the porch like a caged thing. “You think it’s easy waiting here wondering if this is the time you leave and don’t come back?”

She flinched.

Good.

Let it sink in. Let her feel what it was to be the one left holding the weight.

“I’m not a damn lighthouse,” he said, chest heaving. “I can’t keep shining just to help you find your way in the fog.”

Autumn stood too, rising slow, tears streaming now but unhidden.

“I never asked you to be.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said, voice quieter now. “You just assumed I would. I told you I’d wait for you, but this feels like toying with me the more it happens.”

Silence snapped between them.

She stepped forward. Just one step. Then another. Until she was in front of him, eyes wild and wrecked.

“You’re right,” she said. “I did. I do . Because you’ve been the only place I’ve ever felt safe. And that scared the hell out of me.”

He didn’t move.

“Everywhere I go,” she whispered, “the dead follow. I don’t get peace. I don’t get to keep things. But you— you made me want to try.”

He looked at her fully then.

Hair wild from wind. Eyes red. Hands fisting at her sides like she couldn’t bear not to touch him. And he broke.

He reached for her, pulled her against him in one swift motion, and kissed her.

She kissed him back harder.

Desperate. Fierce. Real.

They stumbled through the front door, all breathless heat and desperation. Dorian’s hands were already beneath her sweater, tugging it up, his fingers brushing the bare skin of her back like he couldn’t wait to feel all of her.

Autumn’s mouth was hot and wild against his—tongue tasting him like she’d starved for it. And maybe she had.

Upstairs, the door slammed shut behind them. Clothes hit the floor without ceremony. His shirt. Her sweater. Her leggings. His jeans. All of it discarded in a trail of need leading to the bed.

This wasn’t soft like before.

This was the kind of need that clawed at bone. The kind that had waited too long and held too much.

“Goddamn it,” Dorian growled as he backed her toward the mattress, eyes burning with golden heat. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Autumn’s breath hitched, fingers curling around the waistband of his boxers. “Show me.”

He kissed her again, brutal and claiming. When their bodies hit the bed, he was already between her thighs, pulling her panties down her legs, slow enough to make her whimper, fast enough to tell her he couldn’t wait another second.

She was soaked. Her pussy glistened in the low light, swollen with want. He groaned when he saw it, when the scent of her hit him—earth and lilac and something uniquely hers , already seared into his memory.

“Fuck, Autumn,” he murmured, dragging the flat of his tongue from her entrance to her clit in one long, reverent stroke. “I could spend days between your legs.”

Her head rolled back, a moan slipping free as her thighs instinctively closed around his head. “Dorian, please…”

He gripped her hips tighter, holding her open for him, and went back to work. Tongue flicking, swirling. His mouth devoured her, his stubble rasping against her tender skin. She trembled with every pass of his tongue, her hands tangled in his thick, dark hair as if she could anchor herself there.

“Fuck—you taste like heaven,” he growled, eyes hazy now, voice vibrating against her clit.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped. “Please, don’t stop?—”

He didn’t. He pushed two thick fingers into her, curling them just right, and the sound she made was wrecked. Her pussy clenched around his fingers like she didn’t want to let them go. Her hips began to roll against him, chasing her high.

He let her.

She came hard, back arching off the bed, thighs trembling around his shoulders. Her moan broke on his name— “Dorian!” —and he drank every second of it.

When she stilled, he climbed up her body, kissing her sweat-slicked skin along the way—her stomach, the underside of her breast, the sharp line of her collarbone.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, kissing the spot just below her ear. “Every time you run, I feel it like a wound. And I still want you.”

Autumn pulled his mouth to hers, tasting herself on his tongue. “Then take me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His cock was thick and heavy, the head flushed dark with need. He gripped the base, lined himself up, and with a breathless groan, sank into her.

She was tight. Wet. Hot as fire.

“Shit,” he bit out, head dropping against her shoulder as he pushed in deep, inch by inch. “You feel like… like coming home.”

Autumn wrapped her legs around his waist, lifting her hips to meet him. “Don’t hold back.”

He didn’t.

He started to move, each thrust hitting deep, driving a rhythm that matched the thunder of his pulse. His golden-hazel eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, she saw the shift—the hint of milky brown, the shimmer of his bear flickering just beneath the surface.

“You make me lose control,” he growled, voice hoarse. “You make me feel too much.”

Her nails dragged down his back. “Then feel me. All of me.”

He fucked her harder, deeper. The bed groaned beneath them. Her cries grew louder, less words, more sound. She met every thrust, sweat glistening on her skin, hair wild and tangled around her flushed face.

“Say it,” he grunted, driving into her. “Say you’re not leaving again.”

“I’m not,” she gasped. “I’m staying. I want to stay.”

That broke something in him.

He pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, the other gripping her hip as he slammed into her. Their bodies were a tangle of heat and emotion, skin to skin, no space between them.

Her pussy clenched around him, and he knew she was close again.

“That’s it,” he whispered against her lips. “Let go for me, baby. Come on my cock.”

And she did. Shuddering, crying out his name like it was a spell, her whole body going taut and then collapsing beneath him. The feel of her coming around him—tight, pulsing, his —pulled him over the edge.

He cursed low, biting her shoulder as he came, his cock jerking deep inside her as he spilled into her heat. His whole body trembled with the force of it.

They lay tangled in the aftermath, bodies slick and shaking, hearts thundering.

Dorian rolled them gently, letting her rest on top of him. His fingers wove into her messy hair, his chest still rising and falling like waves against the shore.

Her lips brushed his collarbone. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “For every time I ran.”

He kissed the crown of her head. “Just don’t run again.”

“I won’t.”

And this time, she stayed.

Her head on his chest.

Her fingers tangled in his.

Like she’d finally decided to stop being haunted, and start being his .