Page 99 of Blood & Throttle
Her leg draped over mine. Fingers twitching in sleep. Hair tangled across my neck. The slow rise and fall of her breath presses heat into my skin.
Taz is snoring at our feet, sprawled sideways like she owns the bed. Which, let’s be honest, she kind of does. But I don’t move.
Not yet.
There’s blood dried under my nails. A tight ache pulled across my ribs from where I took that blade. But for once? I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to think about what comes next.
Because this… this is the first silence I haven’t wanted to destroy.
I trace my fingers down her spine, slowly, memorizing every scar like they mean something.
She made it through hell on her own. Never broke. Never begged.
Now she’s mine.
And if anyone tries to drag her back into that darkness, I won’t just stop them.
I’ll make sure they never crawl out of it.
She shifts, mumbling something incoherent into my chest.
I lean in, brushing a strand of hair off her face with the back of my hand. It's a small thing. Barely a touch. But soft in a way, I’m not, and she clocks it immediately.
“Morning,” I murmur.
Her lashes flicker. Then again. She blinks up at me, eyebrow already arching.
“Did you just tuck my hair?” she says, voice rough with sleep and suspicion. “What, no knife to my throat today?”
I smirk. “You want the knife, or you want breakfast?”
“I’ll take the knife. You’d probably burn the toast. And if you say something poetic, I’m punching you.”
I chuckle low. “Not in the mood for sunrise metaphors and heartfelt shit?”
“Not unless they come with caffeine and a loaded weapon.”
She yawns and stretches, groaning like she’s been hit by a truck. Which—technically—she kind of was.
I roll slowly onto my back. Pain sparks in my side, and I wince.
She notices. “You're still sore.”
“I’ll live.”
“You sure? Because you looked a little white-knuckled trying to take your pants off last night.”
“I was distracted.”
I reach over to the nightstand, grab my pack of smokes, andtap one loose. I slide it between my lips and light it up, the flame briefly flickering across her face as she watches me with that amused, unreadable stare.
She wrinkles her nose. “You know that shit’s going to kill you, right?”
I exhale slowly, eyes on the ceiling. “Yeah? Let it try.”
There’s something quieter between us now. Still fire. Still bite. But underneath that, something’s shifted.
She feels it too. I can see it in her eyes when she looks at me just a second too long.
