Serenity's POV
The apartment is dark, save for the bruised light of the city bleeding through the thin curtains, but I don’t need sight to find him. I know the geometry of Darian’s body like a map I tried to burn but ended up memorizing instead.
As the door clicks shut, the sound acts as a catalyst. The tentative shock in his posture vanishes, replaced by a surge of raw, kinetic response. His hands, which had been steadying me, now grip me with a frantic intensity, as if he’s trying to verify that I’m not a hallucination born of his own exhaustion.
He tastes of salt and the lingering copper of the fight at the gate, a bitter, intoxicating reminder of the chaos we just survived. I deepen the kiss with a desperation that borders on violence, my fingers digging into the muscles of his shou
