Page 101 of Blood Heir

He crawls to me, and his arms wrap tightly around my waist like a drowning man grasping for something—anything—to stay afloat. His fingers fist into the fabric of my shirt, clutching me like I’m the last thing tethering him to life itself. His head presses against my stomach, and I feel his entire body trembling.

His eyes lift to meet mine—red-rimmed, glossy, desperate.

“You remember, don’t you?”

I can barely breathe through the lump rising in my throat.

I slap him.

The sharp sound cuts through the thick air, my palm stinging as his head jerks slightly from the impact. But he doesn't pull away. He doesn't loosen his grip. He only stares at me with that same broken look, like he expects and deserves every bit of my fury.

“I was wrong.” His voice breaks as soon as it leaves him. “I—” His throat closes around the words, and he has to swallow to push them out. “I was going to steal from you. I was.”

The tears burning in my eyes threaten to spill, but I grit my teeth, forcing the ache in my chest down.

“Don’t you dare act like you’ve changed,” I whisper, my voice raw, venomous—because the pain feels like it might rip me apart.

His hands shake harder now, squeezing my waist tighter, as though he’s terrified I’ll vanish.

“You were in the hospital for days after you jumped,” he whispers, voice ragged, eyes flickering with grief. “I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I—I—”

“Yeah, he was pretty bad,” Emilia’s voice cuts in from behind, dry and exasperated, her head sticking out the window. But even her sarcasm feels thin beneath the heavy moment.

I ignore her.

He leans his forehead against my stomach like a man breaking. His voice cracks fully this time, completely unguarded. “I don’t care about any of it,” he gasps, his breath shallow, almost choking on his own words. “I—I just need you. Please, Fioretta, I can’t—” His voice breaks again, helpless. ”I can’t go on without you.”

And then he says it. The words that shatter my defenses.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I love you more than anything, Fioretta. More than my life. More than the world. I can’t lose you again.”

A bitter laugh bubbles out of me through my tears, shaky and cracked, as the weight of it crashes over me.

Because the worst part—the most twisted, cruel part—is that I need him too.

I hate him. I love him. I loathe him. I crave him. He’s poison and air, and I’m drowning all at once.

My knees give out beneath me, and I drop to the ground with him. My hands reach for his face instinctively, cupping his bruised jaw as his chest heaves beneath my fingertips. His breathing is ragged, desperate, and his eyes stay locked on mine, as though letting me out of his sight will be the end of him.

He lifts his hand, brushing the tears off my cheeks with fingers that tremble uncontrollably. “Stay with me,” he whispers again, barely audible. “Please…stay with me.”

The dam breaks completely inside me, my tears falling freely as I gasp for breath.

I press my forehead against his, my lips quivering, and then finally, finally—our mouths crash together.

The kiss is desperate, messy, and soaked in tears. It’s hungry and raw, all teeth and trembling lips, like we’re clinging to each other on the edge of a cliff. His hands cup my face like I’m fragile, like I’ll break, while mine fist his bloodied shirt, pulling him closer, trying to absorb him into me.

“Fioretta, we don’t have time!” Emilia yells from behind, voice sharp with urgency.

I snap out of the moment, my hands still clutching Serevin’s face. His breathing is heavy, eyes locked on mine, but I give him a small nod, forcing down every ounce of emotion.

I grip his hand tightly, pulling him up with me. He stumbles, his legs still weak from the stab wound, but I steady him.

Emilia swings open the car door as Cassian leans against it, half-smirking despite the bruises darkening his jaw.

“You guys are so cute,” Cassian mutters dryly, then turns his head slightly toward Emilia, flashing that cocky grin. “This could be us.”

Emilia glares. “Shut up before I push you out of the car.”

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