Page 34 of Her Nightshade

“Where are we going?” I asked, slightly excited by the unfamiliarity of the subway, always having kept myself hidden from such public places in the past.

He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close, as his other hand held the railing above us. “Central Park. I know, it’s freezing,” he said with a grin. “But it’s big enough that sometimes it feels like you’re in your own little world.”

I exhaled a small laugh, surprised by the sweetness of his choice. “So, your idea of outing us to the world is a secluded stroll in Central Park?” I teased, pressing my hand to his chest.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head with a laugh. “This is.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, the bustling noise of the train fading as his warmth washed over me. Hiskiss was deep, unhurried yet intense, as though claiming me in this crowded, public place. His arm tightened around me as our lips moved in perfect sync and the world melted away, leaving only the heat of his touch. I leaned deeper into him, letting his kiss say everything words couldn’t. When he finally pulled back, I gasped for air, the excitement buzzing through me, knowing without a doubt that was the best kiss I ever had.

“You think that might’ve done the trick?” he asked, his voice a low, teasing whisper.

I laughed, biting my lip to hide my smile. “I think so.” Almost too afraid to glance around the train, I scanned the crowd and caught sight of a few discreetly raised phones, snapping back down once I noticed them. Charlie followed my gaze, his laughter spilling out, rich and carefree. He leaned in close, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, Iknowso.”

I silenced my phone as soon as we got home.Home.My apartment was nowourhome. When the calls began pouring in from everyone—Marissa, Jake, others from my team, even distant family members—I hitdo not disturband put my phone face down on the dining table.

It was starting to sink in: we just made out on a crowded train for everyone to see. I knew that we’d be splashed across gossip magazines, online headlines, and every corner of social media. But the thought of it, the idea of claiming Charlie as mine so openly, and knowing he wanted to do the same, was exhilarating.

As I sank into the couch, the room wrapped in a comfortable silence, Charlie sat beside me with his phone in hand, a mischievous spark lighting up his eyes. I was about to ask what he was up to when he tilted the screen towards me, showing a photo he’d taken earlier, just the two of us, as a drafted post on Instagram.

It was candid, the kind of photo that felt private, like a glimpse into a moment meant to stay between us. My head was tilted towards his, our smiles subtle, his hand resting lightly on my knee.

“You’re posting that?” I asked hesitantly.

We had already stirred up enough drama for one day, but Charlie seemed to want more.

“Yep,” he said with a triumphant smile, then hit “share.” It had been posted for the world to see.

My heart stuttered as I leaned closer, reading the caption he’d written beneath the photo:

Some things are too real to hide.

It was simple, but it spoke volumes.

I stared at him, caught between shock, annoyance, and exhilaration. He didn’t say anything; he reached for my hand, letting his fingers intertwine with mine, his thumb brushing over my skin.

I couldn’t stop myself—I swung my leg over his lap, pressing my lips to his with a desperate urgency. I could feel that darkness twisting inside me. Charlie had become like oxygen, like some essential, primal thing I couldn’t live without. It wasn’t just wanting him near me—I needed him with a hunger that clawed at me, insatiable and relentless. He’d broken down every wall, every layer of my careful composure until all that was left was this raw, vulnerable version of me—someone who craved him and this reckless, all-consuming passion, no matter the cost.

The boundaries between us were gone, erased so completely that I didn’t know where I ended and he began. And I didn’t want them back. I wanted his chaos, his obsession, his recklessness. I wanted to lose myself in him, to be consumed completely, even if it meant becoming someone I didn’t recognize. There was no return from this, no piece of myself he hadn’t already claimed.

Something shifted in him as his fingers pressed into my skin, his breath quickening. His kiss grew deeper, darker, filled with an urgency that surprised me, something more intense than anything I’d felt from him before. Excitement and a whisper of fear pulsed through me as he pulled back, his eyes wild and almost fevered.

“Ana,” he murmured. “I don’t think you understand…I can’t put into words what you mean to me. Sometimes it feels like nothing I say could ever be enough.” He ran his hand through his hair, looking away for a moment before his gaze returned, fierce and desperate. “I need you to know…to feel how much you own me.”

He pulled something from his pocket and I realized it was a pocket knife. He held it out, opening it, his eyes searching mine. My breathing sped, my heart pounding with a sudden, instinctual fear. But then his expression softened. “I’d never hurt you, Ana. This…this isn’t about pain. It’s about you, and me. Something words can’t touch.”

Something dark, but thrilling, built inside me. I hesitated, glancing down at the blade, feeling its weight in my hand as he placed it there, his fingers lingering against mine. “What do you want me to do?” I asked quietly.

“Mark me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Leave something of yourself with me, something I’ll carry always. And let me do the same to you.”

My heart pounded at his request—this was something that went beyond possession, beyond anything I imagined wanting. And yet, as I looked at him, I realized that I did want this, more deeply and fiercely than I ever expected.

I brought the sharp blade to his chest, my hand steadily drawing a shallow line, watching as blood blossomed against his skin. The sight was so intimate, our connection laid bare, visible in a way that felt both haunting and thrilling.

I looked into his eyes, feeling the last trace of my hesitations vanish, replaced by something so powerful as it was consuming. There was no return from this—only him, only us, bound in a way that defied all sense and reason. And as he brought the blade to my skin, his eyes dark, I realized I wanted this as much as he did. We were two halves of the same, each claiming and being claimed, our love sealed in a vow of blood and desire that neither of us could ever let go.

* * *

We decided to venture out the next evening, craving a moment of normalcy amid everything that felt so intense between us. The morning and afternoon were spent lazily entwined in bed or curled up on the couch, our conversations drifting from lighthearted banter to quiet, intimate confessions, finally peeling back layers of each other in a way that felt long overdue.

As the sky began to darken, we got dressed, our laughter mingling with the noise of the city as we headed out. It was exciting walking through the streets together, his arm draped protectively over my shoulders, as if we were just any other couple. But even here, out in the open, I could feel the weight of our secrets, binding us in a way that made each step feel like a silent declaration.

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