Page 51 of Bound By Crimson
He dipped his head and brushed a kiss over her mouth—slow, deep, claiming. The kind of kiss that didn’t just claim the body, but the soul beneath it.
She melted into him. Her hands rose instinctively to his shoulders, fingers curling into warm muscle.
When he pressed her back into the mattress, she didn’t resist. A soft sound escaped her before she could stop it.
But then—he pulled back.
His breath was unsteady. His eyes burned.
“We can’t,” he murmured, rough and teasing. “We have a plane to catch.”
She blinked up at him, dazed. “A plane?”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Get dressed. First door down the hall. Take whatever you like.”
Before she could answer, he slid off the bed and disappeared into the shadows beyond the doorway.
---
Inside the closet, she found a soft, oversized sweatshirt and neatly folded black tights. Simple. Comfortable. Chosen for her.
She dressed quickly. The fabrics were warm and grounding against her skin.
When she returned to the bedroom, Kai was waiting near the open balcony doors. A black Bentley waited just beyond the driveway.
“Come,” he said simply, offering his hand.
---
The Bentley glided through the streets, the city falling away behind them.
Lyric shifted in her seat, sleeves pulled over her fists. Before the distance could settle between them, Kai reached over, hooked an arm around her waist, and drew her firmly against his side. His warmth chased away the morning chill—and any lingering doubt.
As the wrought-iron gates creaked open ahead, Lyric glanced back over her shoulder.
Gravemoor loomed behind them—its gothic spires and shadowed towers clawing at the morning mist.
A black silhouette against the pale sky, carved from stone and silence.
It watched her leave.
And for a moment, she wondered if some part of her would always belong to it.
She drew in a slow breath. “This place used to give me nightmares when I was a kid. We all dared each other to get close to the gates.”
Beside her, Kai smiled faintly. “It scared me too once. When I was a boy. My family owns it. I used to hate coming here… but now I find comfort in the silence.”
Her eyes widened. “You own this?”
“My family has for centuries.” His gaze stayed on the mansion, shadows slipping across his sharp features. “But I only came back for one reason.”
He turned toward her then, his eyes dark and steady.
She swallowed but didn’t ask what he meant. She already knew.
A beat of silence passed between them.
“So… the masquerade ball,” she said quietly. “Were you the one who hosted it?”
