The words were soft, hesitant, but they detonated inside my skull like a damn bomb. My whole body tensed beneath her, the warmth between us turning razor-sharp. Love. That word didn’t belong in my world—it didn’t belong in my chest or bloodstream. But she had just dropped it between us like it was something simple, something light.
I went still. My fingers, which had been lazily tracing her back, froze against her spine.
"Go ahead, lie to me. Tell me you don’t love me, and I’ll pretend to believe it." She blurted out. She wasn’t letting me escape this.
"You’ve slit throats and spilt blood for me. Don’t insult me by pretending it wasn’t love." Her eyes searched mine.
I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. I had waited so damn long to hear those words, but now that I had, they felt foreign. Like so
