Page 143 of His Fury

I nodded, and he approached me slowly like I was going to spook at any moment. Strong arms reached out for me, gently taking hold of my waist and pulling me into his body. I resisted for a moment, and then I went with him. I looked up at him, and he looked down, the look in his eyes as raw as I felt.

He exhaled slowly, then pressed his forehead against mine.

“This is why I wanted to keep you out of things,” he admitted. “Because I was afraid that once you saw it all—reallysaw it—you’d walk.”

“I might still walk.” That pulled him back. His eyes darkened. “But if I do…” I hesitated, then forced the truth. “It won’t be because ofwhatyou do. It’ll be because you didn’t trust me with it.”

He let that sit between us.

“What happened at Elixir tonight,” I said, my voice low. “It was a warning. Someone wants you exposed. Someone wants you vulnerable.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think they counted on me standing with you.”

“No,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. “They didn’t.”

We stood there for a long moment, the quiet of the house settling around us like fog. His grip never loosened. My pulse never slowed.

“I don’t want to lie for you again,” I whispered. “I don’t like it.”

“I know.”

“But I will.”

He swallowed hard. “I’ll never ask you to.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. I had to be honest with myself and withhim. “I don’t think you have to ask.” I looked up at him. “I think I’ll do it easily.” I blinked back tears. “I don’t know who I am anymore. Is this…is this me?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, but what I do know is that you’regood. You’re pure shining light.” He kissed my forehead. “I’m sorry you had to do that tonight. You never have to do that again. I swear.”

“Well, let’s not be hasty,” I muttered, trying to stop everything from overwhelming me. “It is you I’m in love with, after all.”

“Isla,” he said my name like it was a prayer.

I rolled my eyes at him. “Oh, come on, like it wasn’t obvious?”

Zayn smiled a little and then leaned in and kissed me—soft, unhurried, reverent. “Thank you for being who you are,” he murmured against my lips. “Thank you for loving me.”

Rising up, I pressed my lips to his. “Take me to bed and make me forget the last three hours?”

“Anything for you,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise.

Our hands linked together, our fingers lacing like they belonged that way, and he led me out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into the space that had somehow become ours.

The bedroom was dimly lit, the soft glow from the hallway casting gold across the floorboards. The sheets were still slightly rumpled from earlier—a reminder of the chaos, the closeness, the way we kept finding each other even in the mess.

He turned to me slowly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear as if he couldn’t help but touch me. His hands were warm, steady, and careful.

His kisses were gentle—not demanding or rushed. Just soft brushes of his mouth against mine, each one grounding me more than the last. One on my forehead, another on my cheek, my jaw, and my lips again. Slow. Patient. Like we had nowhere to be but here.

My clothes were removed with no haste. Every touch from him sent electricity through me. He pushed me gently backward onto the bed, following me down, his lips never leaving my body.

My hands stroked over his broad shoulders, hooking over the back of his neck, as I brought his mouth down to mine. My lips parted, and I caught his lower lip in a gentle bite. The hot slide of his tongue made my body ache for his touch.

Zayn kissed me deeper, his mouth moving over mine, taking what he wanted, what I gave him, and I wanted to give him everything. He traveled from my mouth down my body, kissing the smooth surface of my tummy before dipping lower. He spread my legs apart, and then he kissed me where I needed him most.

“Zayn…”

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