Page 154 of Mystic's Sunrise

It was everything I’d been starving for and more than I ever thought I’d have again.

She moaned into my mouth, her nails digging into my back like she was trying to leave a mark—and God, I wanted her to. I wanted her to scratch her name into my skin. Let them all see who I fuckingbelongedto.

My hand gripped her thigh, spreading her wider, deeper, harder, each thrust driven by weeks of silence, days of distance, months of buried guilt and hunger and the goddamn fear that I’d lost her forever.

But she was here.

And she wasn’t holding back anymore.

She kissed me like it hurt, cried out like she couldn’t take it, then begged for more like she never wanted it to stop.

I whispered her name like a prayer, over and over again, buried in her skin, in her hair, in the soft gasp she gave when I gripped her hips and rocked harder, faster, losing every ounce of control I had left.

She shattered beneath me, her legs tightening around my waist, her hands in my hair, her body trembling as she came apart.

And I followed.

Hard.

Fast.

Helpless.

I held her through it, both of us wrecked and shaking, breath tangled between our lips like something sacred, something claimed.

And when it was over, when the high began to fade and my body finally stilled, I didn’t move.

I couldn’t.

Because if I pulled away now, I might forget how it felt to be this close to her.

Tohaveher.

Her hand slid up my chest, slow and gentle, her fingers brushing over the scars I used to hate. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.

She just held me, quiet and steady, like she’d known all along that this would be the place we found each other again.

I let my forehead rest against hers, our breaths syncing, our silence no longer heavy.

It felt like peace.

***

THE LIGHT WASsoft through the curtains, creepingacross the bed in thin lines that painted her skin in gold.

Zeynep was still asleep, curled on her side, her hair tangled across the pillow, her breathing slow and even. Peaceful. Like she was always meant to be in my bed, in my arms, in this fucking life.

But I didn’t deserve this.

Not yet.

Not until I finished the last step and forced the hand of that manipulative bitch.

I sat up slowly, careful not to wake her, my body still sore in all the ways that came from loving her the way I’d needed to. The way we both had.

But this wasn’t the end.

It was just the start.