Page 97 of The Sentinel

I barely registered the way he tucked the blanket over us, the way he pressed slow kisses to my shoulder, silent promises I knew he meant.

His voice was low, barely a whisper against my hair.

“You’re mine, Claire Dixon.”

I smiled sleepily, already drifting.

“Yours,” I murmured.

And I meant it.

His lips found my temple, pressing there, lingering. “I’m not letting you go.”

I smiled sleepily, already knowing I wasn’t going anywhere.

But he wasn’t done.

His fingers brushed along my spine, spreading warmth, possession. “Tomorrow, I’m calling movers. They’ll pack up your things in New York, ship them here.”

I stiffened slightly, tilting my head to meet his gaze. “Here?”

His blue eyes burned into mine, absolute. Unwavering.

“With me. At Dominion Hall.”

My breath caught.

This wasn’t just Marcus taking me, loving me, claiming me. This was Marcuskeepingme.

The words settled somewhere deep inside, their weight heavy, real.

A past version of myself might have hesitated. Might have tried to push back, to hold on to some illusion of independence, of distance. But I wasn’t that version of myself anymore.

I wasn’t the woman who had arrived in Charleston looking for answers, determined to chase the truth no matter where it led.

I wasn’t the woman who had thought she could walk away from Marcus Dane.

Because there was no walking away.

And I didn’t want to.

I lifted myself just enough to press my lips to his, slowand soft, a promise wrapped in something deeper than words.

“Okay,” I murmured. “I’ll stay.”

Something shifted in his face.

Relief. Possession. Something like love, but even darker and deeper.

His grip tightened on me, his voice rough as he pulled me even closer. “You were never leaving.”

And I knew he was right.

I tilted my head, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I love you,” I murmured again, just because I could.

His grip on me tightened. His breath shuddered out.

Then he lifted his head, his eyes finding mine. “I love you, too,” he whispered.

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