Page 66 of Twisted Violet
The title appears on the screen.
K-Pop Demon Hunters.
And I laugh despite myself.
It isexactlythe kind of movie I’d watch.
We’re almost donewith the movie when it happens.
The part I didn’t know to brace for. The part I didn’t see coming.
The quiet, broody love interest, the only person who ever looked at the main girl like she wasn’t damaged, throws himself in front of the demon king’s fire to protect her.
And after a few heartbreaking seconds, he’s gone.
It guts me, and suddenly I’m crying.
Silently. Shamefully, like I can hide it behind the blanket if I just shift the fabric high enough.
Dallas notices.
“Hey.” He leans in. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. It’s stupid. I’m fine. I just didn’t expect that. I thought they’d get a happy ending.”
He studies my face for a second before brushing a tear off my cheek with his thumb.
He’s not trying to fix it. Not trying to put a Band-Aid on it. He’s just letting me feel and doing what he can to help me through it.
“It’s just a movie,” I try to say, but my voice cracks on the words.
Another tear slips free. Dallas leans in and kisses it away.
Then another. And another.
He doesn’t ask what’s wrong. He just keeps kissing every tear like it matters. Like I matter. And when our lips finally meet, I let them.
Because tonight, I need to believe in someone who sees all my cracks and stays anyway.
His kiss feels soft, reverent, like I’m something fragile he’s scared to break.
My world narrows to the feel of his mouth, to the weight of his hand as it grips onto my hair, and to the heat blooming low in my belly as he shifts closer.
He moves like he’s dreamed of this a thousand times. Like every stroke of his hand is a promise he’s been dying to keep.
His hand slides between my legs dragging up the inside of my thigh, slow and patient and possessive.
I gasp into his mouth when his fingers graze the edge of my panties.
“I’ve wanted this,” he says, voice rough. “But I didn’t want to push.”
“You’re not,” I breathe.
“Tell me to stop.”
“I won’t.”
Dallas flashes me a mischievous grin, like I’ve just bared my throat to a wolf and dared him to take a bite.
