Page 83 of Fractured Loyalties
We just stay there, forehead to forehead, two storms circling the same eye.
Then I say it, because I need it to be real.
“I don’t know how to be safe.”
His breath skims my mouth.
“Then let’s start with danger,” he says.
And by the time his lips find mine, It’s not gentle.
It’s honest.
Chapter 16 – Elias - Dirt and Consequence
Her mouth is still on mine when it hits me—everything I’ve done, every scar I’ve earned, none of it ever mattered until this exact moment. Until her.
The kitchen is barely lit, just enough glow bleeding from the hall to catch her eyes when they flutter shut. Her fingers knot into my shirt like she needs something to anchor her, and I let her. Let her press into me like she’s trying to memorize the shape of my restraint.
I don’t push.
But I don’t pull back either.
My hands are at her waist, tight enough to remind her I’m not just standing here. I’m choosing to stay.
The kiss isn’t soft. It’s not clean. It tastes like the end of a long lie and the beginning of something we might not know how to survive.
She breaks away first.
Breathless. Glassy-eyed. Her lips parted, swollen. She looks at me like she’s trying to find the version of me that makes this safe.
She won’t.
I’m not safe.
But I’m hers.
“Mara,” I murmur, pulling back just enough to see her face. My voice is low, uncertain. I’m not sure if I’m asking her if she wants more—if she’s ready—or if I’m just trying to slow down what’s happening between us before it pulls us under.
She doesn’t answer with words. Instead, she shakes her head once, gently, not in rejection but in pause. Then she presses her forehead to mine, and it quiets something restless in me.
Her breath brushes my lips when she says, “Not yet.”
That’s all. No fear. No shame. Just honesty.
And I nod. Because that’s more real than any yes could be.
She’s not running. She’s not surrendering. She’s just asking for space to breathe.
And I’ll give it to her. Every inch she needs.
Because what we’re building here—it isn’t about taking.
It’s about earning.
I walk her back to the room without touching her again. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t ask me to stay.
She doesn’t have to.
