Page 175 of Untamed

The door clicks shut behind me, and the sunlight hits me like a slap.

It’s too bright. A little too real.

I squint as I step outside, pulling my cardigan tighter around myself, like it might hold everything in place.

And then I see Ares.

He’s pacing back and forth in front of his bike, head down, hands clenching into fists and unclenching at his sides. His jacket’s off, thrown over the seat like it pissed him off just for existing. He runs a hand through his dark hair, then stops, eyes trained on the pavement like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

He looks... tense, wrecked, even.

Like waiting outside a clinic for a girl he swore he’d never fall for might just break him. I swallow the lump rising in my throat and take a step toward him.

He hears it and his head lifts instantly, eyes locking to mine like a sniper sighting a target, but it’s not anger and not relief, either.

It’s something else.

He exhales hard and closes the space between us in two long strides.

“Everything okay?” he asks, voice low, searching my face for anything that might say otherwise.

I nod. “Yeah. Took the pill. Got the prescription.”

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move or blink.

Just stares at me like he’s trying to solve an equation that shouldn’t exist.

Then, quietly, “You sure?”

I manage a small smile. “I’m sure.”

Still, he doesn’t let go of the tension in his shoulders. Doesn’t breathe until I reach up and press my hand to his chest, right over his heart, where it’s pounding unusually fast beneath my palm.

“I’m okay, Ares,” I say, softer this time. “We’re okay.”

His hand covers mine. Large, warm and a little unsteady.

But he nods and finally, he exhales.

His fingers tighten around mine.

Then, without a word, he pulls me into him.

Not rough, not possessive, just firm, like heneedsthe contact as much as I do. His arms wrap around me, grounding, steady. My cheek rests against his chest, and I feel the way his heartbeat finally begins to slow. Then he dips his head.

His lips brush mine, soft and slow, so unlike the fire we usually fall into. This is something different. A silent apology, a quietI see you. A breath of peace in a world that gives us none.

When he pulls back, his eyes search mine. “Come with me.”

I blink. “Where?”

His mouth tilts into a faint, unreadable smirk. “Somewhere I go when I need quiet.”

I raise a brow incredulously. “You? Quiet?”

He shrugs, grabbing his helmet off the bike. “Even monsters need silence sometimes.” And just like that, the tension in my chest loosens.

I slide the helmet on. “I’m in.”

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