Page 66 of Goldflame
I don’t understand why or how or what caused this change, I only know I’m desperate for things to be like they were before. Answers to my questions can come later.
I kiss him back, surrendering to the warmth and the feeling of finally being seen after weeks of invisibility. My hands grab at his bare chest, pulling him closer as tears slide silently over my cheeks.
His mouth trails down my jaw, my neck. He takes his time like he has all the time in the world. I have to bite back a sob because it’s all wrong. It shouldn’t feel this good. I shouldn’t let him into my bed so easily.
But I do.
When his hands find my breasts and pluck at my nipples, I arch into him as the heat increases between my thighs.
“Julian…”
“I’ve missed you,” he breathes against my skin. “Missed you so damn much.”
Something inside me breaks, and I’m clawing at him, pulling him on top of me, desperate to feel his weight pinning me down in a way that makes me feel alive instead of trapped.
“Don’t stop,” I beg.
He groans, a low sound that vibrates through both of us. His hand slides lower, into my pajama bottoms, between my legs where I’m already slick with need. His knuckles graze some of my wounds by accident, but I don’t think he notices. And I’m so lost in the moment, the sharp stings barely register.
He dips inside me with one finger and then another until I’m gasping out his name.
“Julian…”
It’s too much. The weeks of captivity and fear and anger crumble beneath the onslaught of pleasure, leaving only this raw, aching urgency. My body moves against his hand, frantic and uncontrolled.
“Just let go,” he whispers hoarsely.
I can’t. But I do.
The world breaks into sensation—heat and light and the sound of my own choked cries.
I collapse under him, expecting him to fulfill his own needs next, but he doesn’t. He scoops me into his arms and pulls me close, kissing the top of my head.
I’ve missed you too, I want to say. But I miss the old Julian.
Is he that man again? Or is that man as dead as his brother?
“Why now?” I finally ask. “After everything?”
His hand comes up to my face, thumb ghosting over my cheekbone with a gentleness that makes me want to weep. “Because I’m drowning,” he admits. “Because I don’t know how to do any of this. Because my world shattered the moment Adrian died, and I’ve been trying to piece it back together. I made bad choices. I hurt you and… I never wanted to do that.”
I close my eyes, his words resonating. Grief can drive even the best people to monstrous acts. Haven’t I proven that myself? Haven’t I killed for my own pain, my own sense of justice?
“That doesn’t excuse what you did,” I say, but there’s no fire in my words.
“I know it doesn’t. I’ve become everything I swore I’d never be.” His voice breaks. “I’m a monster. And you have every right to see me as one.”
My fingertips brush against the stubble on his jaw. I really have no response. I can’t forgive him this easily, and yet, part of me understands his break from reality.
My revenge against those who hurt my motherturned me into someone I barely recognized at times. Someone who could poison, shoot, and burn without hesitation. Someone who could strangle a man with his own tie and feel nothing. Am I any better than Julian? Or are we both just broken people lashing out at a world that destroyed us?
He takes my hand. “Come with me to the kitchen.”
“Will your mother?—”
“No, I sent her away. No one’s here. Just us. Just like old times. Remember when we’d hang out in the kitchen when we were younger? Come on.”
I take his hand, my heart overflowing.
