(Even devils know how to cradle the soul they just ruined.)
Mirabel didn't move for a long time.
She just lay there, brushing Janelle's tangled hair back from her sweat-slicked forehead, kissing each eyelid like they were glass petals that might break if she pressed too hard. Her jealousy had roared like a storm… but now came the stillness after the thunder.
Janelle stirred. Her voice was hoarse, her body aching and deliciously sore.
"You were angry," she murmured, trying to smile.
"I was furious," Mirabel said, voice quiet. "Because you're too damn beautiful for your own good. And you forget… you belong to me."
"I didn't forget." Janelle reached up and cupped Mirabel's cheek. "I was just... curious."
Mirabel frowned. "Curious enough to let some little waiter touch what's mine?"
"No," Janelle whispered. "Never that far."
A pause. Mirabel sighed, then leaned in, pressing a long, slow kiss to her lips no heat this time, just warmth.
"You scare me sometimes," Janelle said softly.
"I scare myself, too."
They lay there in silence, limbs tangled, hearts syncing like they'd done a thousand times before. Mirabel ran her hand down Janelle's back in a rhythm that soothed, not teased.
"You deserve someone gentler," Mirabel admitted, brushing her lips over Janelle's knuckles.
"I deserve someone who ruins me the way you do," Janelle replied, voice barely a breath.
They fell asleep like that. Skin against skin. Heart against heart. Jealousy faded into tenderness, violence melted into vulnerability.
---
To be continued