Lilac eyes meet Tristan confused about what he had done right now , but as soon as Tristan saw her big doe eyes he said "fuck everyone " his one hand was behind Lilac neck and one was pinning her wrist above her hand.
lilac's wrists were still caught above her head, her pulse thrumming against Tristan's grip. His lips pressed to hers like he was trying to burn every reason, every doubt, out of existence.
The kiss was rough, unyielding, but beneath the harshness was something that terrified her even more — hunger. A hunger she wasn't sure either of them could survive.
Lilac gasped when his mouth finally left hers, their breaths colliding in the dark space between them. Her lips tingled, swollen and alive, and though she tried to turn her face away, he followed — dragging her back into his gravity.
"Tristan…" she whispered, but the sound was half a plea, half a curse.
His eyes searched hers, wild and pained. "Say my name like that again, and I won't stop."
Her heart stuttered. Every instinct told her to shove him off, to scream, to remind herself of who he was — but her body betrayed her. Instead of pushing, she leaned into the wall harder, as if it were the only thing keeping her upright.
Tristan let her wrists slip free, but only to trail his hands down her arms, slow, deliberate, until they rested at her waist. His thumbs brushed her ribs. A shiver shot through her, sharp enough to make her breath hitch.
For a suspended moment, nothing existed but the space between them — the almosts, the mights, the shouldn'ts.
Lilac bit her lip, the memory of his kiss still hot against her mouth. She hated the way he watched that tiny movement like it was a match to dry kindling.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, voice breaking.
His answer came low, raw. "Because I can't not."
And then he kissed her again.
This time it was slower, deeper, dragging her into a world that blurred at the edges. The kind of kiss that promised ruin, the kind that stripped her of every excuse. Her hands, traitorous things, clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer when she knew she should push away.
She melted into him, lost in the way he tasted of iron and smoke and something uniquely his. Every scrape of his stubble against her skin made her ache, every press of his mouth silenced the storm of logic in her head.
For once, there was no past. No future. Only this.
When they finally broke apart, foreheads resting together, their breaths ragged, Lilac realized her hands were still tangled in his shirt. She forced herself to let go, but the absence left her feeling bare.
"We can't," she whispered, almost to herself.
"I know," Tristan said. His thumb brushed the edge of her jaw, softer than she'd ever thought him capable of. "But tell me you didn't want it, too."
Lilac froze, every nerve sparking. She opened her mouth — to deny, to lie, to shield herself — but nothing came. Only silence.
And that silence was its own confession.
Tristan's lips quirked, but there was no victory in it. Only pain. Only inevitability.
For a long moment, they stayed there — suspended between what had just happened and what couldn't ever be. The air was thick, charged, almost unbearable.
Then—
The faint echo of footsteps reached them, carried through the stillness of the corridor.
Tristan's body tensed instantly, his head snapping toward the sound.
Lilac's breath caught.
The Syndicate.
They weren't alone anymore.
End of Chapter 7~