Page 61 of Breaking Ophelia

I don’t move. Neither does he.

The tension builds, electric and choking, until it’s the only thing keeping me upright.

I remember the first time he touched me, the weight of his hand on my throat, the way he whispered my name like a promise anda threat. I remember the way my body betrayed me, the way my pulse leapt at every word.

It’s the same now. The same hunger, the same fear.

I realize, with a sick twist of relief, that I don’t have to choose between them.

My breath clouds between us, white in the cold. I look up at him, daring him to try again.

“Do it,” I say. My voice is steady. “Finish it.”

He doesn’t ask what I mean. He knows.

He grabs my jaw, fingers digging in until the bone aches. He holds me there, gaze locked on mine, not blinking, not breathing.

“Say it,” he says.

“Fuck you,” I spit. “You already won.”

He shakes his head, a tiny, almost invisible movement. “Not unless you give up.”

I laugh again, softer this time. “You’re never going to break me.”

He leans in, his mouth at my ear. “I don’t want to break you, O. I want you to break yourself. Tell me that you’re mine and all this can be over.”

I shiver, and not from the cold.

He’s right. I can feel it happening, the slow unspooling of every reason I ever told myself not to want this. He pulls me to my feet, my body heavily leaning against his. Somewhere, out there, I hear footsteps and know the Feral Boys have come to watch the claiming.

To ensure I followed the rules.

That Caius followed the rules.

I push into him, lips against his, teeth clashing, blood mixing with spit and heat and rage. He kisses back, harder, his hand at my throat, not choking, just holding me steady.

We’re both shaking now, both ruined and raw and alive in a way I never knew existed.

I don’t know how long we stand there, tangled up in hate and need. I don’t care.

When we finally break apart, I’m still shaking, but it’s a good kind.

He smiles, softer this time. “You want to run again?”

I shake my head. “Not yet.”

He brushes my hair from my face, gentle for once.

“Then stay,” he says.

I do.

We stand there, under the broken moon, neither prey nor predator. Just two monsters learning how to feed the beast inside.

For the first time, I think maybe I can.

Maybe we both can.