Page 65 of The Collector

Knew the places where her resistance thinned. And Raven used that knowledge like a weapon.

Her heart pounded, not just from pleasure, but from the ache of being seen and claimed in ways she hadn't allowed herself toimagine. She hated how much she needed this. Hated how much she needed him.

She closed her eyes and let herself feel—really feel. Not just the heat of Raven's body or the rhythm of their breath, but the ache beneath it, the hunger that had lived in her bones long before Raven ever touched her.

That moment—the moment—rose like a tide. Mynx reached the cliff's edge, every nerve lit, every wound open, and she leaped. Not away from herself, but deeper into him. Into the chaos. Into the truth of what they were becoming together.

And then they shattered.

First her—splintering into release, into surrender, into something raw and real.

Then he—following her into the void, into the place where pain and pleasure blurred. He roared out his release.

The pure hardness radiating from him, from the way he looked at the world to the way he spoke and acted, scared her, but not in the way she expected.

She found beauty in his hardness—not in the sharp edges, but in what they protected. He didn't wear softness on his sleeve, but she saw it in the way he held silence, in the way he shielded others without asking for thanks.

She thanked God. The Fates. Whatever force had carved their paths into one. He came into her life like a storm, and somehow, she stood in the center of it untouched.

She didn't just accept him. She claimed him. All of him.

She felt his hot breath as he shifted closer, his defined, muscular frame melding with hers in a moment of pure connection. She noticed his lips ghosted over the shell of her ear when he spoke, his hair brushing along the smooth skin of her neck.

"Mine," he whispered.

She didn't move. Not even to breathe. The word wrapped around her like the choker itself—tight, deliberate, inescapable.

Mine.Raven felt the same as she did.

The word undid her. Taking away her fears that she was the only one who felt what she was feeling. She closed her eyes and leaned into the claim. She didn't falter. She didn't hesitate. She allowed herself to be wanted—with intention, with clarity, with the kind of hunger that didn't ask for permission.

She chose it.

She chose him.

Not as a weakness, but as a declaration.

Every breath she took said, I'm here.

Every inch she gave said, I'm not afraid to be seen.

"Five minutes till showtime, Mynx," an unknown voice called from the hallway.

She was just about to show him— not with words, because she knew those would choke in her throat, but with everything she had left. Herself. She wanted him to feel her response in how she reached for him, in how she let go of everything she had been holding back. She needed him to know that she wasn't just doing this because it was what she needed—but by choice. She needed him to see that she chose him back.

She had spent so long pretending she didn't need anyone that survival meant solitude. But Raven saw through that, and she hated him a little for it. She hated how he made it harder to stay guarded, how close she came to unraveling with his every touch and glance. Her whole life she'd wanted to be independent. Be her own protector.

If they had one more second… Mynx was ready. To show him, tell him what he meant to her. But they didn't. It would have to wait.

"Eyes on me— Butterfly. When you're on that stage, I don't want your eyes ever to leave me. You're mine, and everyonein that room will know it. I'm yours too," Raven said, his voice low and steady, as if every syllable carried a truth he hadn't dared to speak until now. "Not just in this moment, not just on that stage—always. You just don't know how deeply finding you has already changed me. Not yet, but you will— soon enough. I promise."

Mynx brought her hand to his cheek, her fingers gliding over the surface. She felt not only the strength but the heat, and she understood how much vulnerability he was offering her in that moment. Her heart ached to show him the same. She leaned in, her lips tenderly brushing against his, and looked into his eyes. She hoped they reflected the words they didn't have time for.

"Time to go, Mynx," the voice called again from the hallway.

"We'll talk more later. I have a lot going on tonight. My father is here, and my decision to claim you isn't going to be easy to explain to him." He straightened his suit and pushed the long strands of his hair behind his ears, smoothing them back.

Mynx watched as he left—felt the loss of his heat against her own.