“When I was brought back to that cell, I wanted to die. Until you gave me back the will to live.”
I gasp as he leans in and presses a gentle but seductive kiss on my lips that pushes all my buttons and makes my heart flutter.
When his lips briefly pull away from mine, he whispers, “Thank you.”
I shake my head even though our lips are still touching. “Don’t thank me.”
“Don’t tell me what I can’t do,” he rebukes, pulling away slowly.
He fishes into his pocket and takes out the flower I once gave him, still beautiful, even though it’s dried up. “This… this is what kept me going all these years.”
I suck in a breath, the sight of that flower still making me feel like I’m spinning.
It’s still so hard to believe I’m looking at the same boy I once found hiding in the tub. “You’re really him…” I mutter. Now he’s all grown up and … handsome.
Not at all the way I saw him when he first marched into my home like a lumbering, menacing giant determined to kill everything in sight.
“Is that why you couldn’t kill me when you came for my father?” I ask.
I hadn’t dared to ask the question before, but now that we’re here, in a safe space, I have to know the truth.
He nods and grabs my face. “When I looked into your eyes, I recognized you.”
I gulp, my heart skipping a beat.
“I knew it was you when I saw that same look. That look you gave me …” he murmurs, softly caressing my cheek. “But I also knew my owne—Lex”—he pauses, like it costs him a great deal to say Lex’s name—“was watching through the camera in my collar. I couldn’t risk him finding out.”
No wonder he didn’t want me to touch him at the hotel, despite him being interested in me soon after I was forced into his cell.
I grab his hand holding the flower and look at it. “I can’t believe you kept it … all those years,” I mutter. “How?”
His eyes lower as he dives into his memories. “I kept it safe in my pocket, even when the snatchers stole me. I hid it in the walls or underneath the floorboards, any place I could find.” He holds it up in front of his face like it’s the most precious jewel he’s ever seen. “And when life got too rough, I’d take it out and just stare. For a moment. That’s it.”
Tears well up in my eyes, but when one rolls down, he lifts his thumb to my face and wipes it off.
“Don’t cry,” he says as he lowers the flower again.
I don’t know what to say.
No words could ever carry the weight of my emotions or his.
So when he leans in to peck me on the lips, I give in completely.
“I’m here now,” he murmurs against my lips. “I’ve found you, and you belong with me.”
He keeps kissing me even though he’s still holding that flower, and I am terrified of ruining it, of destroying the only thing that’s kept him going for all these years.
But I don’t want him to stop kissing me, either.
His kisses are like oxygen. I need them to survive.
But he still pulls away, even when I struggle desperately to hold his mouth with mine.
Suddenly, he swoops me up into his arms, and I shriek from the surprise. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you what you deserve …” he replies, making me feel tingly in all the right places.
When did I begin to feel so much for a beast like him?