Page 70 of They Are Mine

Orion never bothered replacing the key for her.

Because he’s done with her.

She doesn’t belong here.

But I do.

The second I step inside, I pause.

The air is warm, still, settled. It smells like him.

Like burnt wood and something darker underneath.

I inhale slowly.

Close my eyes.

Let it settle deep inside me.

God.

This is how it will feel when he brings me here.

This scent on my clothes. This space wrapped around me.

Him. Everywhere.

I walk through, slow, deliberate.

His living room is clean. Sparse furniture. Nothing cluttered. No useless trinkets.

He doesn’t need things to fill his space.

I love that.

I love that he isn’t like Noah.

Noah needs softness, warmth, a cozy, well-loved home.

Orion?

He needs something else entirely.

I step into his bedroom.

His bed is made. Tidy. No messy sheets. No discarded clothes.

Just simple. Controlled. Perfect.

I love that.

A man who doesn’t let chaos touch him.

I crawl onto his bed.

Slow.

Sink into the firm mattress, the crisp sheets.

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