Page 70 of A House of Gold
“Yes.” The word slips out before I can stop it. “God help me, yes.”
“Say it again.” His teeth graze my jaw, my throat. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.” My voice breaks. “For now. For one year. I’m yours.”
“Not for one year.” He kisses me again, brutally and claiming. “Forever. You’re mine forever, and I’m never letting you go.”
“Croesus.”
“Say it.” His hands tighten in my hair. “Say you belong to me.”
I should refuse. Should remind him I’m human, that I have a life waiting outside this golden cage, that one year is all he gets.
But I’m so tired. And he’s so warm and gentle. And right now, belonging to someone feels like relief instead of imprisonment.
“I belong to you,” I whisper against his mouth.
The sound he makes is triumph and hunger and something that might be relief. He kisses me again, and again, and again, like he’s trying to consume me, to take me apart and remake me as something that’s his and only his.
When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathing hard. His gold eyes are blazing, and there’s something almost feral in his expression.
“You’re mine,” he says again. Like he’s trying to convince himself. “Not Seraph’s. Not Ash’s. Not anyone else’s. Mine.”
The mention of Ash hits hard enough to wake me from this fever dream and reality crashes back.What am I doing?I just purged seven years of pride and immediately let another angel claim me. Let him kiss me. Told him I belong to him.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“I need to sleep,” I say, pulling back. Or trying to. He doesn’t let me go far.
“Not yet.” His hand cups my face. “Not until you understand what just happened.”
“I know what happened. You kissed me. I was too tired to stop you.”
“You kissed me back.” His thumb traces my swollen lips. “You said you were mine. You meant it.”
“I was exhausted. I didn’t know what I was saying.”
“Liar.” The word is soft, but it cuts. “You knew exactly what you were saying. You just don’t want to admit it.”
He’s right. God help me, he’s right.
“This changes nothing,” I say weakly. “I’m still leaving in a year.”
“We’ll see.” He finally releases me, steps back. “Go. Sleep. Recover. We’ll discuss this when you’re thinking clearly.”
“There’s nothing to discuss.”
“There’s everything to discuss.” He moves to the door, pauses. “But not tonight. Tonight, you rest. Tomorrow…“ His smile is sharp. “Tomorrow, you start understanding what belonging to me actually means.”
He leaves. The door closes. Locks.
I stand there somehow in my room now, touching my lips, tasting gold and possession and my own surrender.
The forty-sixth tattoo burns on my arm. My body aches everywhere. And I can still feel his hands in my hair, his mouth on mine, his voice saying mine like it was the only truth that mattered.
I told him I belonged to him.
I meant it.
