His hands caught my arms, grip rough, holding me in place. “The hell you’re not mine.”
The air charged between us, hotter than the firefight, sharper than the blast at the dam. My heart hammered, fury and want tangling so tight I couldn’t tell one from the other.
I should’ve pushed him back. Should’ve walked away. Instead, I fisted his shirt and yanked him down into me.
The kiss was hard, angry, teeth and fire. His mouth crushed mine, fierce and claiming, and I gave back every ounce of it. His hands slid up into my hair, anchoring me, while my body pressed flush against his, desperate, reckless.
When he broke for breath, his voice was ragged, raw. “You drive me insane.”
I gasped against his lips, biting back a shaky laugh. “Good. Now you know how I feel.”
And then we stopped talking.
The map crumpled under my back as he lifted me onto the table, his body pinning mine, heat pouring through me in waves. Boots scuffed on wood, papers fluttered to the floor, and somewhere in the back of my mind I thought—if North wanted to see us break, he’d never get that satisfaction.
Because Forest and I didn’t break.
We burned.
His mouth claimed mine again, rough and demanding, like every word we’d thrown at each other needed burning out. I yanked at his shirt, fingers fisting in the fabric until it tore loose from his waistband. He growled into the kiss, deep and low, then lifted me higher on the table, spreading maps and radios to the floor with one sweep of his arm.
“Forest—” I gasped as his lips traced down my throat, his beard scraping heat into my skin.
“You don’t listen,” he muttered against me, his voice dark, vibrating through my bones. His hands slid under my jacket, palms hot on my ribs. “You never listen.”
“Then make me,” I hissed, arching into him, daring him.
He did.
His mouth found mine again, hard enough to bruise, while his hands stripped my jacket and shirt in one furious motion. My breath caught as cool air hit bare skin, then his heat was on me again, pinning me, grounding me.
I clawed at his belt, ripping it loose, every move fast and desperate. The table creaked under us as he shoved my legs apart, stepping between them like he’d been born to fit there. His hands gripped my thighs, pulling me closer, until I felt the solid, undeniable truth of just how much he wanted me.
“Forest,” I whispered, not angry now, not even close.
His eyes met mine, blazing with something that was equal parts fury and devotion. “You’re mine, Zoe. Always.”
The words undid me.
He surged into me in one fierce motion, and the world fractured. My cry broke against his mouth as he swallowed it, devouring me like he couldn’t get close enough. Every thrust was rough, urgent, but underneath the anger was desperation—like he had to prove I was here, alive, his.
I clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, back arching as the table rattled under us. My body moved with his, every slam and drag winding me tighter, pulling me to the edge.
“Say it,” he demanded, breath ragged. “Say you’re mine.”
I bit his lip, tasting copper and fire. “Always.”
He groaned, the sound ripped from his chest, and then we were both lost. The world narrowed to heat and heartbeat, to the pounding rhythm of us breaking apart and holding together all at once.
When it ended, when the quake left us shaking and breathless, he stayed there—forehead pressed to mine, sweat and soot and salt on our lips.
No more words. No apologies. Just the raw, unshakable truth between us.
And outside, in the quiet woods beyond the station walls, I couldn’t shake the feeling that North was still watching.
26
Zoe
