What Grows Dies Here

But I couldn’t stand the thought of him hating me for even a second. Certainly not a fucking lifetime.

I could handle him hating me for pushing him away, but I couldn’t survive him hating me for what I was. What I’d turned us into.

So with a single tear running down my cheek, I walked out.

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

He didn’t say anything when I came to him.

Neither of us did.

There was no mention of it in the daylight. He didn’t throw it in my face, use these visits as a weapon in his crusade to get me back. He may have been a bad man, he may have been the worst kind of man, but he wouldn’t do that to me.

To us.

I rode him furiously, chasing my orgasm relentlessly, my naked body damp with perspiration. Karson’s large hands spanned my hips, gripping them tightly, almost to the point of pain but not quite.

My hand went to his wrist, yanking at it, my eyes on his. This was the only time I was brave enough to look him in the eyes, half mad with need and pleasure.

Karson’s eyes flamed, knowing what I wanted as I pulled his hand off my hip, yanking at it. He was fighting against a dark need of his own and whatever was in his nature to continue to protect me, even if such a task was folly these days.

“Wren,” he ground out, my name a warning. The cords in his neck were etched in stone.

I didn’t stop moving, enjoying the battle in his eyes as I slammed myself against him.

“Do it,” I hissed, feeling my climax build. It was out of reach still, though my limbs prickled with anticipation of the inevitable bliss. If he refused me this time, then I’d hurtle back into myself, forced to live inside the skin that no longer felt right without these momentary reprieves I was chasing. Although I didn’t stop moving, I held my breath. It seemed as if even my heart stood still.

He was going to deny me.

The last vestige of peace I had was slipping through my fingers, and I’d have nothing left. I’d never come back here. I wouldn’t be able to face him.

But after a millisecond of pause, Karson’s hand crept upward. He brushed it over my sensitive nipples and rested his palm above my thundering heart before he circled my neck.

“Tighter,” I demanded, my voice a husky plea.

I sensed his hesitation more than anything. And guilt ripped through my damp, tingling body for making him do this.

For turning us into something wholly unrecognizable.

But that was the whole point, wasn’t it?

Karson wouldn’t deny me now. Even if he was starting to hate me for what I asked.

Even though I already hated me for what I asked.

His grip tightened around my neck, pain exploding in my nerve endings and my breath catching in my chest. My body responded to it all, the pain, the lack of oxygen, the proximity to death. The fact that it was Karson’s hands tight around my neck killing me. That it was just him and me. We were the only people on this planet. Nothing existed but his dick inside me, his hands around my neck and his eyes on mine. He was my beginning, and more importantly, my end.

My orgasm hurtled through me with the force of a destructive earthquake, shaking my foundations, splitting me apart.

Through a vortex, I heard Karson’s growl as I milked his release from him, his grip tightening even more for a moment before it released entirely.

As the pain subsided and my oxygen returned, my limbs tingled with feeling, aftershocks jolting my body before subsiding entirely.

Earth welcomed me back.

Life welcomed me back.

And I resented every breath that returned.