Page 63 of Covert Desires

"What is it? We need to hurry, we—"

"Kiah. Wait." My voice cracks, raw with emotions I've never let myself feel. "Please."

"There's no time," she insists, tension lining her face. "You have to go."

"No." The word erupts from somewhere deep inside me, surprising us both.

Her nose wrinkles in that way that makes my heart stutter. "What do you mean no?"

I struggle to translate this ache in my chest into words. How do I tell her that the thought of leaving feels like drowning? That somewhere between her capture and her care, between her strength and her softness, she's become as essential as breathing?

"I can't do it alone." My hands find her shoulders, needing to anchor myself to her. "I don't want to."

She cocks her head, studying me with those eyes that see too much. "You don't need me, Nico."

"But I do." The truth burns my throat. "God, I do. The thought of facing all of it—the family, the accusations, the empire—without you beside me..." I swallow hard. "You're the only person who's ever seen all of me, Kiah. The darkness and the light. And you didn't run. You didn't try to fix me. You just...matched me, step for step."

Her breath catches, and I press on, desperate now. "I feel unstoppable with you. The mere thought of being away from you, even for an hour, grips my throat like a tightening noose."

I search her face, looking for any sign that she feels this too—this wild, terrifying thing between us that's stronger than duty or destiny.

She sighs, her eyes a battlefield of emotions. "Nico..."

"No." I pull her closer, our foreheads touching. "I'm not going without you. I can't. Everything I thought I wanted, everything I've fought for—none of it means anything if you're not there." My voice drops to a whisper. "Come with me.Please."

The world holds its breath, waiting for her answer.

Chapter nineteen

Impulsive

(Kiah)

Adrenalinesurgesthroughmeas I survey the carnage.

Incapacitated attackers lie scattered among the wreckage of my once-peaceful sanctuary. Around them, broken furniture and shattered art bear witness to the violence that just unfolded.

Yet, I don't feel anger or loss.

I feel...alive.

Powerful.

Like my old myself.

And the rush is intoxicating!

I had almost forgotten how natural combat felt, how exhilarating it was to push my body to its limits, to wield it as a finely-tuned weapon.

My limbs had moved with a fluid grace that surprised even me, muscle memory kicking in as if no time had passed.

For the first time in ages, my muscles had sung with purpose beyond mere exercise. That visceral dance of survival—it was what they'd been yearning for all along.

But that wasn’t the only reason my heart rate shot through the roof.

Fighting alongside Nico was...unexpected, incredible.

He held his own—I’m quite proud.

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