Page 24 of Knuckles & Knives

Instead, I pull him closer and even grind against his hard cock through our clothes.

“Raven,” he breathes against my mouth, my name a prayer and a curse. “God, I’ve wanted this for so long.”

The confession breaks the spell like ice water thrown to my face. Suddenly, I’m acutely aware of where we are, what we’re doing, and how catastrophically stupid I’m being.

Dom. Axel. Now Kieran. What am I doing? I came back for vengeance, not this swirl of heat and hands and conflicting truths.

I shove him away hard enough that he stumbles backward, his eyes wide with surprise and lingering heat.

“This was a mistake,” I say, my voice shaky.

“Was it?”

“You’re a Frost. I’m a Blackwood. Our families?—”

“Our families have nothing to do with what just happened between us.” He straightens his shirt, but his eyes never leave mine. “That was just you and me, Raven. Nothing else.”

“There is no just you and me. There’s history and blood, and five years of?—”

“Five years of what? Grief? Rage? A thirst for revenge that’s eating you alive?” He steps closer again, and I have to fight the urge to back away. “When was the last time you did something just because you wanted to? When was the last time you let yourself feel something other than anger?”

He makes excellent points, but I can’t let him see that weakness. “You don’t know anything about what I feel.”

“Don’t I?” His smile is sad, knowing. “I know what it’s like to be trapped by expectations, by legacy, by the weight of a name you never asked to carry. I know what it’s like to want something so badly it physically hurts, only to have it snatched away by circumstances beyond your control.”

“Stop.”

“I know what it’s like to lie awake at night wondering what if, to see someone across a crowded room and feel your whole world shift?—”

“Stop.” The word comes out sharper, more desperate. “Just… stop.”

He goes quiet, watching me with those penetrating blue eyes that seem to see straight through every defense I’ve carefully constructed. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken truths and impossible possibilities.

“I can’t… I won’t forget what I came back for.”

“Maybe you can have more than just what you came back for.”

I blow out a breath. “I should go,” I finally manage.

“Should. There’s that word again.” But he doesn’t try to stop me as I move toward my bike. “For what it’s worth, I don’t regret it.”

I pause, my hand on the bike’s handlebar. “You should.”

“Probably, but I’ve spent five years regretting things I didn’t do. I’m tired of that particular brand of self-torture.”

I swing my leg over the bike, needing the familiar weight and power beneath me to anchor myself in reality. “Stay away from me, Kieran.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

He’s quiet for so long I think he won’t answer. When he does, his voice is soft, almost vulnerable. “Because you’re the only real thing left in my world. And I’ll be damned if I let anyone—Marcus, Dom, Axel, or the ghosts of our fathers—take that away from me again.”

The engine roars to life beneath me, drowning out whatever response I might have made. As I tear out of the parking garage and into the neon-lit chaos of the city streets, I can feel Kieran’s eyes following me until I disappear into the night.

Three kisses. Three men. And I swore I wasn’t here for this.

First, Marcus tells me one truth. Now, Kieran tells me another. Only one of them can be right. Or worse, both of them are lying.