Esme’s POV
Marek moved closer again, eyes dark and desperate, and before I could step back his mouth crashed on mine again. Harder and hungrier. His tongue pushed past my lips like he was trying to claim every corner of me, like if he kissed me deep enough he could erase three years of my pain and longing for someone else.
His hands were everywhere: sliding down my hips, tracing the bare skin of my stomach, slipping lower to my thighs. I flinched. My whole body flinched. My skin crawled at the touch, not because it hurt, but because it felt wrong. My wolf, who had been quiet for so long, curled tighter into the corner of my mind and refused to stir.
I didn’t push him away.
I let him.
Because he had stayed. Because he had held me when I cried in the middle of the night. Because he had
