Page 45 of Hunting Harbor
For one breathless moment, she's frozen, unresponsive under my assault. Then, like a dam breaking, she's kissing me back with equal ferocity. Her hands release the counter and find my shoulders, nails digging in through my shirt. She makes a sound against my mouth—half moan, half sob—and I swallow it, hungry for every piece of her she's willing to give.
This is surrender. Not the reluctant submission of prey, but the willing capitulation of a woman who's been fighting herself as much as she's been fighting me. I've seen it in her eyes for days, the internal war between what she thinks she should want and what she actually craves.
I press her harder against the counter, one hand sliding up to tangle in her hair, gripping tight enough to control but not hurt. No. This time is different. This time I won’t take, she will give. The kiss deepens, my tongue demanding entrance which she grants immediately. She tastes like the wine she was sipping while cooking, rich and complex with an underlying sweetness that's all Harbor.
For the first time since we arrived at this cabin, she's fully present in the moment—not planning escape routes or measuring her words. Not watching me from the corner of her eye as if I might transform into something monstrous at any second. There's an honesty in the way her body responds to mine that satisfies something feral in me.
When I finally break the kiss, we're both breathing hard, her lips swollen and red from the pressure of mine. I keep my grip on her hair, holding her face tilted up to mine as I study her. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes dazed with desire. Beautiful. But there's still that hint of hesitation in the furrow between her brows, the slight tension in her shoulders.
She still doesn't fully understand what this is. What we are. What I've done to ensure nothing stands between us.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted you," I tell her, my voice rough with need. "How much I've sacrificed to have you here, like this."
Something flickers in her expression—confusion, maybe a touch of fear returning. Good. She should understand the magnitude of this moment.
"What do you mean?" Her voice is barely above a whisper.
I stroke her cheek with my thumb, watching her reaction carefully as I say, "I killed your brother and your father for you, Harbor. Because no one gets to hurt what's mine and walk away unscathed."
The words hang in the air between us, heavy and irrevocable. For a moment, she doesn't react at all, her mind struggling to process what I've just said. Then understanding dawns, horror spreading across her features like spilled ink, darkening her eyes and draining the color from her cheeks.
"So that was you?” She says it like she didn’t know all along.
"Was it really that hard to believe?" I cut her off, my voice gentle despite the brutality of my words. "I’d do anything for you, Harbor. I thought you’d understand that by now."
A mix of emotions flash across her face before finally settling on acceptance. They were dumb fucks anyway, to put it lightly. They deserved a far worse fate than I gave them.
"Why?" she says. "Why would you tell me this? Do you want me to be afraid of you?"
It's a fair question. I could have kept this secret forever. But that's not what I want from her. I want the truth to stand between us, naked and bear and for her to accept it.
"Because I want all of you, Harbor. Not just your body, not just the parts you're willing to give. I want your knowledge of who I really am. What I'm capable of doing for you. I want you to understand that there are no limits to what I'll do to keep you."
She stares up at me, her heart shaped face flushed, but her forehead uncreased. She wants a love that burns like this.
"You're a monster," she whispers.
I smile, reaching down to cup her chin. "I'm your monster, Harbor. And deep down, in places you don't want to acknowledge, that's exactly what you've always wanted."
Her eyes, when they finally meet mine again, hold something I hadn't expected to see—not just horror or hatred, but recognition. As if she's finally seeing me clearly for the first time, and somehow, impossibly, still wants what she sees.
“Thank you.” Tears well in her eyes and my heart wrenches.
I reach for her slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wants to. She doesn't. My hands cup her face, thumbs gently wiping the wetness from her cheeks. Her skin is hot against my palms, feverish almost. I lean in, bringing my face close to hers.
"You're all I have now," she breathes, “besides Lila.”
"That was always the point," I admit.
Our lips meet, and this kiss is different from the one before. Softer initially, a question rather than a demand. Her lips are salt stained from tears, swollen from crying and our earlier kiss. She responds with surprising tenderness, her mouth moving beneath mine with a hesitant exploration that ignites something fierce in my chest.
The gentleness doesn't last. Can't last, not with the storm raging inside both of us. The kiss deepens, grows hungry again, my hands sliding from her face to her shoulders, down her arms to circle her wrists. Not restraining, just connecting us at multiple points, anchoring her to me as our mouths claim each other with increasing urgency.
"You're safe now," I whisper against her lips, though what I mean is that she belongs to me completely. That no one will take her from me, ever.
She doesn't resist as I lift her from the floor, her body pliant against mine. I set her on the counter, stepping between her legs which part for me instinctively. Her hands come to rest on my shoulders, fingertips digging in as if she's afraid she might float away if she doesn't hold on tight enough.
"I should hate you," she says, her voice steadier than before.
