Page 195 of Untamed

So, I take a step forward.

He doesn’t move. Another step. Then another, until we’re only a breath apart. I can see the smoke curling from the cigarette between his fingers. See the tight clench of his jaw. The storm behind his brown eyes.

“You don’t get to shut me out,” I whisper. “Not like that.”

He exhales through his nose, slow and quiet, but his eyes never leave mine. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“We’re passed that,” I murmur.

He says nothing.

“Bianca told me what she said to you,” I add. “She said she asked you to leave me alone.”

His spine straightens, every line in his body drawn tight. His silence is louder than any yes.

I step even closer, close enough to smell the smoke on his skin and the fury still simmering in his veins.

“Is that what this is? You ghosting through the hallways like I don’t exist? Ignoring me like I’m poison now? Because my sister begged you to?”

“She’s not wrong,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “You should stay away from me.”

I shake my head. “And what doyouwant, Ares?” I look up at him. “Do you want me to stay away from you?”

Again, he doesn’t answer.

So I press, voice trembling, “Because I’m done listening to everyone else tell me how I should feel. What I should want. I’m here. You.Me.Right now.”

He looks away, and that hurts me.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, softer this time, reaching up to turn his face to mine. “So, if you’re trying to scare me off, try harder.”

He laughs. But it’s hollow...pained.

Then his eyes snap back to mine, and the weight of them nearly buckles my knees.

“I’m not trying to scare you,” he says, voice low. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?”

His gaze darkens.

“Fromme,” he asserts, voice rougher this time, like he’s bleeding in silence with every word.

I stare at him. At the broken but beautiful man in front of me, who wears violence like skin and grief like armour. The man who has every reason to walk away. And yet here he is, still standing, still trying to keep me at arm’s length.

Still hurting.

My throat goes tight, but I don’t let it break me. I step in closer, slowly, until the space between us disappears. My fingers reach for his, cigarette still burning between them, and gently I take it from his hand and toss it aside, and he lets me.

“I don’t want your protection,” I whisper.

His brows draw together, barely breathing. “I wantyou.”

His eyes flicker, pain seeping through the surface.

“You don’t know what that means, Bambina?—

“Yes, I do,” I cut in, my voice trembling now, but steady enough to hold. “I know exactly what it means. You’re dangerous, I know. I know what you’ve done. And I know there’s a part of you that thinks walking away will somehow save me.”

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