Page 41 of Intrigue

He brushes his lips on mine before sliding out and dropping to the side, spent but still possessive. For the first time in years, I’m roped back into his arms and cuddled until I fall into a blissful sleep, trapped in his heat, his filth, his everything and knowing I’ll never claw my way out.

Chapter 12

Selene

I tell myself it was a mistake. That last night didn’t mean anything.

That it was just lust, just old habits crawling back under my skin.

But when I wake up in his bed, my body still tangled with his, his scent still clinging to my skin—

I know I’m lying.

The room is still dark, just the faintest hint of dawn creeping through the windows. I could leave.I should leave.

I watch him sleep instead, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the faint crease between his brows even now.

Like even unconscious, he’s waiting for a war.

I reach for my dress, my hands shaking, but I don’t make it past the door.

Because his voice, deep and low and wrecked with sleep, stops me cold.

“You run from me again,” he murmurs, “I will come for you.”

I freeze. Slowly, I turn.

Alessandro’s eyes are open now, heavy-lidded but alert, watching me like he already knows what I was thinking.

Because he does. He always has.

I swallow hard. “This was a mistake.”

His lips curve, but there’s no amusement in it. Just something dark. Something dangerous.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he murmurs, pushing up on his elbows, the sheets slipping down his chest. “But you’ll still come back.”

I shake my head, gripping the doorframe. “I told you this is only going to be for a month. Just stay off Cassian’s back. Allow us to get married in peace.”

He tilts his head. “You say one thing, but your body is saying another.”

I hate him. I hate him for being right. For knowing me better than I know myself.

His fingers drag over the sheets as he adjusts more upright. “You can leave, Selene. If that’s really what you want.”

I don’t move. Not because I want to stay. Because I don’t want to leave.

And that’s worse.

He exhales softly, standing, the mattress shifting under his weight. My breath hitches when he steps toward me, bare feet silent against the floor.

“You might think this is all it is.” His voice is quieter now, almost gentle. “That this was just a relapse. But I assure you that even after this one month is up, you’ll rather die than leave me.”

I force myself to look at him.

The room feels smaller. Like the walls are closing in.

“This means nothing, I won’t be coming back. I canassureyou,” I state more firmly.