Page 112 of Till Death

Step into a realm of wonder and awe,

Misery’s End awaits you.

Unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed before

A final act that will leave you eager for more when Death’s Maiden takes the stage.

Tonight only – Admission will be free.

I nearly choked on my own gasp. “What the hell is he planning?”

Chapter 43

“They’re everywhere. Both cities are full of his posters. He kept us out all night.”

I whipped around to Orin standing in the doorway, looking tired beyond his years. When our eyes met, there were both a thousand words exchanged and none. His gazed dipped low, taking every languid second he could steal. Last night’s kiss rattled through me until I could feel his lips like a silent ghost over mine.

Orin walked into the small apartment, stopping to kiss his mother on the head before taking the open seat beside me. I straightened when he rested a hand along the back of my chair, forcing a breath in and a breath out as I prepared myself for the fight. But when his fingers trailed along my back, when he leaned over to whisper in my ear, it was all I could do to keep my heartbeat steady.

“Care to tell me why my wife is wearing another man’s shirt?”

The deep growl of his voice rattled my nerves. Steeling myself, I pushed away from the table, ignoring the way his arm dropped, sliding down my back as I stood.

“No.”

The plink of my glass on the counter was as loud as the pulse thundering in my ears. This infuriating man was so good at breaking me, so damn good at making me aware of every move he made. I didn’t even have to look to know he watched me disappear down the hall and escape into a tiny bedroom.

Door slamming open, he stalked forward. “Gods, Deyanira. When are you going to stop fighting me?”

I scoffed. “Two seconds after you stop fighting me.”

“I wasn’t, and you still ran away.”

“I guess I’m too used to the way you hate me.”

He took three steps toward me, and Serenity was drawn before the fourth. Orin’s golden eyes flicked to the blade, unbothered as he closed the distance between us, gripping my hand on my own dagger, shoving it away so he could grab the collar of the oversized shirt Paesha had brought me. “When you speak, I can hear the battle. When you glare, I can feel your repulsion. And I can’t breathe when you are near. I can’t think or see beyond my own rage. Whatever power you hold over me is a vicious form of torture. And I am weak for you. Only you.”

“This isn’t repulsion, nor weakness, Husband. This is fucking obsession. Every day. Every second. And maybe I’m a masochist because I don’t want to be without it.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, Nightmare.”

My eyes dropped to his lips, the tension as thick as castle walls. “Yes. I. Do.”

The world shifted abruptly, as if time had bent to his will. One moment he’d been seething, and the next, his mouth crashed onto mine with a searing urgency that left no room for restraint. The press of his lips was an oath to our shared longing, a craving that consumed us both. I found myself trapped between the solidity of the wall and the hard contours of his body, a willing captive in a dance of fervent need. The thought that I should resist was a fleeting echo, easily drowned out by the primal desire coursing through me.

I came alive with the need of him, my body responding as it always had with his touch. Breasts growing heavy, legs weakening, warmth pooling as we finally, finally let the walls between us fall. And I wanted him. Every inch. I wanted to writhe beneath him and pant his name. I wanted to hear his breath catch the second before release. I wanted the peak of my desire to last an eternity at his fingertips until he drove into me so hard I could not bear it. I wanted him to take it all. And keep it.

His hand slipped into my hair, possessively deepening our kiss. My lips parted, an invitation he accepted eagerly, his tongue brushing mine with a practiced tease. Clutching his shirt, I pulled him closer. The wave of longing spiraled. The taste of him was my complete undoing. With every movement of our lips, the world faded into insignificance, leaving only the intoxicating pull.

Eventually, our need for air forced us to part. The lingering touch, a bittersweet reminder of what I’d longed for. Our eyes remained locked in a silent exchange. A wordless confession of how much we needed each other. Breathless, we stared, the electricity of our kiss still crackling in the air, binding us in a spell we were reluctant to break.

“You deserved so much more than the stolen kiss on the stage.” His eyes searched mine as if seeking answers to questions we both feared to voice. “I’m so tired of fighting you. Of fighting myself. I know what I want. I’ve known for a long time, but I’ve been so angry, trying to convince myself that you were the problem. But it’s always been me. That first night in your bedroom, there was a light in your eyes, unlike anything I’d ever seen. So much grit and defiance. But at the wedding, when you’d pieced together what I’d done, I watched that damn light fade, and it ripped everything I thought I knew about myself to shreds. Every day, I check to see if it’s returned, if you’ve rediscovered the happiness you had before I stole it from you, and it never has. I’m sorry I broke you so thoroughly. I don’t hate you. I hate me.”

“Orin…”

“Give me everything. I want your sadness. Your guilt. I want your happiness, too. And every moment that makes those lips curl into a smile.” He leaned down, breath hot against my neck. “I want to hear the little growls you make when we fight. And I want to hear you purr my name when we are not fighting. When I am buried between your beautiful legs, I want every breath and every pant.”

He kissed me again, desperately, as if he hadn’t wished on a falling star, but instead upon my lips. His touch was a brand, his fingers lingering on my skin as he spoke, leaving an imprint that matched his words. “I’m not asking you to love me, Dey. I’m not even asking you to like me. I just need you to forgive me.”