Page 203 of Eternal
He grabs me by the waist with one hand, lifting me effortlessly as he heads to the bedroom. His other hand curls around my throat, his fingers pressing into my skin just enough to make it personal.
“We’re even now,” he murmurs, his voice low and heavy with a smirk. “I lied. You tried to kill me. We’re equal now. Or did you?”
I struggle in his grasp, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he holds me tighter, his eyes darkening as he moves his fingers down to my hip, pressing his thumb into my skin.
“Why didn’t you kill me?” he asks, his voice cold, accusatory. “I know you could’ve. You chose this part of my abdomen, didn’t you? Not the one where you could’ve killed me.”
I open my mouth to snap back, to tell him to go to hell, but the words die on my lips. He’s right, I didn’t want him dead, not really, not yet.
“I still want you to die,” I manage to lie. Maybe he’ll leave then.
He laughs softly, his breath warm against my skin. “Then why are you still kissing me, why are you pulling me closer, Azra?”
“Because you’re a fucking liar,” I whisper, my fingers threading through his hair as I pull him closer.
He chuckles, not convinced at all. “That’s not it, partner, try again.”
“Fuck you,” I mutter, my lips brushing against his as I speak, the words almost a plea, almost a promise.
“Don’t think I won’t,” he replies, his mouth crashing down on mine again.
As he carries me towards the bed, his hands tight on my hips, his words a rough whisper in my ear.
How does a heart react to betrayal? Like this, with burning want and no hope, with fear and agony. Like your soul came back to life for nothing, like it woke up just to remember how to hurt.
And still… he wants it, even if all that came back was the pain.
He looms over me, the weight of his body pinning me to the bed, his breath hot and ragged as he looks down at me, his chest still bandaged from where I stabbed him. The blood hasn’t even dried, and yet here he is, barely breathing.
“You’re so fucking mad right now,” he says, his voice almost a mockery, teasing as he trails his fingertips along the waistband of my pants. His gaze never leaves mine, flickering betweenanger and something soft. “I get it. You’re pissed I lied to you. But guess what, Azra?” His fingers dig into the skin of my thighs, pulling me closer against him, “You’re also lying to yourself.”
His lips brush over mine briefly before pulling back, “Why didn’t you aim for my heart, huh? Or my throat?” His voice drops lower, “I asked you this once, but you didn’t answer. Why? Why leave me here, breathing, with just a knife in my side?” He grins, but there’s frustration behind it. “You know what that makes me, don’t you?”
I turn my head, my chest tightening with rage.
“You didn’t want me dead. You couldn’t finish it. You wanted to leave me like this. Weak. Still breathing. Stillneedingyou.”
His mouth moves down my jaw, brushing against my skin, and I can’t control the shiver that runs through me. “But you didn’t kill me, Azra. Why? Why didn’t you end it?”
“Because I wanted you to suffer,” I spit out, my words thick with fury and regret. “I wanted you to know what it feels like to be helpless. To be vulnerable.”
He chuckles, a dark, bitter sound that sends a thrill down my spine, even though I fucking hate it. His hands are everywhere on me, gripping my body, forcing me to stay where I am. His mouth finds my neck, teeth scraping lightly as he mutters against my skin, “I’ve never failed a mission. Not once. But I’m failing you, Azra,” His lips curl into a smile, his lips staying just over the pulse in my throat. “And you? You want to fail me too, don’t you? You should be proud because it’s working.”
I grip the sheets, barely able to form words, but everything in me screams for him to stop, even as my body betrays me, pressing closer, searching for the heat of him.
His hand slides under my shirt, moving over my skin, heating me, igniting every nerve. “You can scream at me,” he whispered, lips brushing my ear. “Hate me, tell me I’m nothing. But you know the truth, you need me just as much as I need you. Wedon’t walk away, we never will. You could stab me in the gut and I’d still crawl back to you,partner.”
I grit my teeth, and I hate myself for the way my heart races. I should want him gone, dead at my feet, but I can’t deny the way I just want to cry it all out. Because he still wants to be here.
“You’re insane,” I whisper, barely a breath, but it only makes him laugh, low, seductive. His mouth crashes back to mine in a kiss that is so full of rage and hunger it almost hurts. He doesn’t care about the blood, doesn’t care about the mission anymore, not when he’s inside my head, inside my heart, fucking me the way I never expected with just his warmth.
“No,” he growls against my lips, biting down gently. “We’re both fucking insane.”
My hands tremble as I touch the wound, my wound, the one I left on him. His skin is burning beneath my fingertips, fever-hot and slick with blood. The fabric of his shirt is ruined, soaked through, but he doesn’t move away, he stays still, watching me explore, like my touch is enough for him to cover the pain of this injury.
“I stabbed you,” I whisper, the words taste foreign in my mouth, like they don’t belong to me.
His hand comes up, slow and deliberate, and covers mine, he presses it against his wound, the same way he always does when he touches me, gentle, careful, a liar’s hands, warm and familiar.
