The room was hushed except for the frantic beat of Adrian's heart and the uneven hitch of my breath. He hadn't moved from my side, his hand still cupping my face as if letting go would mean losing me.
"You should rest," he murmured, though his thumb traced my cheek like he couldn't stop touching me. His voice cracked on the word rest, betraying just how terrified he was.
"I can't… not when you're looking at me like that," I whispered.
His eyes darkened, something dangerous flickering behind the storm. "Like what?"
"Like I matter."
The silence that followed stretched taut, ready to snap. Then, with a low curse, he leaned down, his forehead pressing to mine. "You matter more than I should ever admit."
The air thickened. His breath fanned across my lips, warm and trembling. My pulse skittered wildly beneath his touch, even as every nerve in my body screamed for him to close the impossible sliver of distance between us.
"Lyra…" My name was a prayer on his tongue, a plea and a warning all at once. His grip tightened on my hand, grounding me even as the world tilted.
I tilted my chin up, and that was all it took. His restraint shattered.
Adrian's lips crashed against mine, desperate and unyielding, as though he'd been starving for this moment. The kiss was fire—raw, consuming, a confession poured straight into my mouth. His free hand tangled in my hair, careful of my wound but relentless in its need to hold me closer.
I gasped against him, and he swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss until I felt his torment, his longing, his regret bleeding into me. His lips moved with a hunger that left me dizzy, his tongue teasing mine in a battle I had no strength—or desire—to win.
When he finally tore himself away, his chest heaved, his eyes blazing like wildfire. "I shouldn't have done that," he rasped, but his hand refused to leave my skin.
"Then don't stop," I whispered, surprising even myself.
A sharp, broken sound left his throat, halfway between a groan and a laugh. He bent his head again, capturing my lips in another kiss—slower this time, reverent, like he was memorizing me one breath at a time.
Every wall he'd built between us crumbled. Every cruel word he'd ever thrown at me seemed to melt away, leaving only this truth—undeniable, fierce, and terrifying.
When he pulled back once more, his lips hovered over mine, breath hot. "You undo me, Lyra. And I don't know how to stop."
My heart hammered so violently I thought it might burst. But for the first time, I didn't feel like nothing. For the first time, I felt seen.
And wanted.
His words hung in the air, trembling with the weight of everything he wasn't supposed to feel.
I searched his face, desperate for something—certainty, a promise, anything—but all I found was the storm. He was both tender and tormented, like a man at war with his own heart.
"You undo me," he said again, softer this time, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. "Every time I think I've built enough distance, you tear it down without even knowing."
My chest ached. "Then why fight it?"
The question slipped out before I could stop it, raw and trembling.
His jaw tightened, his breath faltering. For a heartbeat, I thought he'd pull away, retreat back into the armor he always wore. But instead, he leaned closer, pressing his lips to the corner of my mouth, then my jaw, then lower still, until I felt his breath against the hollow of my throat.
"Because if I let myself have you…" His voice was gravel, rough with need. "…I won't ever be able to let go."
A shiver rippled through me, not from fear but from the terrifying intensity of his confession. My fingers curled into his shirt, clinging to him as though I could anchor him to me, keep him from slipping away into that darkness he carried.
"Then don't let go," I whispered, the plea escaping me like a secret I'd held too long.
Something inside him broke at that. His hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me into another kiss, deeper and hungrier than before. His mouth moved against mine with a hunger that left me trembling, his tongue sweeping across mine until the world dissolved into nothing but heat and want.
The kiss grew wilder, his control unraveling thread by thread. His hand roamed down my back, steady but urgent, as though memorizing every curve. My own body betrayed me, arching into him, craving the fire he offered.
When he finally tore his lips from mine, his breathing was ragged. His forehead pressed to mine, sweat glistening at his temple. "Gods, Lyra… you don't know what you're asking of me."
But I did. And I wanted it.
His lips brushed mine again, feather-light, before trailing to my ear. "One more second of this, and I won't stop."
I didn't answer. I just pulled him back to me.
And in that silence, in that fire, I knew—I had crossed a line I could never return from.