Page 96 of Prey

“Mine,” I growl, the word distorted by bone. “Always mine.”

But halfway through fucking her against the cold steel, I reach up and tear the mask away. The transformation is immediate—from Hunter back to man, from predator to the broken thing that needs her like breathing.

“But this is who loves you,” I gasp, completely human now. “This is who can’t survive without you.”

She turns her head and looks at me over her shoulder, her eyes bright with tears. “Nikolai.”

“Both sides,” I whisper, slowing my thrusts until each one is deliberate, meaningful. “The monster and the man. They are each woven into me, to the very core of who I am. You can’t have one without the other, you get both. On none. And I think we both know by now that none isn’t an option.”

She reaches back, fingers trailing along my jawline, my cheekbone, mapping the face she couldn’t see for so long. “I want both.”

The simple acceptance breaks me. I gather her up, turn her to face me, and lift her onto the steel surface so I can look into her eyes while I’m inside her. This isn’t fucking anymore. This is conversation through skin, apology, promise, and desperate hope all intertwined.

“I don’t know how to be what other people call normal,” I admit, moving slowly. “Don’t know how to want someone without wanting to own them.”

“Then don’t be normal.” Her fingers trace my features like she’s memorizing them. “Be mine instead.”

The words hit like physical blows, fundamentally rearranging my values. I come with her name on my lips, spilling into her while she watches every expression cross my unmasked face.

Afterward, I hold her on the steel counter, both of us breathing hard, hearts hammering against each other’s ribs. The mask lies forgotten on the floor between us—bone-white reminder of what I am, what I was made to be.

“The others will want to meet you properly,” I say eventually. “My brothers.”

“Brothers?”

“The ones who survived with me.” I stroke her hair, still damp from our bath. “We’re not blood family. But we’re all we have.”

She nods against my shoulder. “Will they accept me?”

The question makes me smile, though she can’t see it. “They’ve been telling me to keep you since the first night I brought you home.”

“And you?”

I pull back to look at her face, trace the curve of her cheek with my thumb. “I’ve been yours since the moment you dropped to your knees in that concrete cell.”

“Even with the mask?”

“Especially with the mask.” I lean down, kiss her softly. “You’re the only person beyond my brothers who’s ever seen both sides. Will you stay with me?”

She smiles then, the first real smile I’ve seen from her in days. “Where else would I go?”

“Nowhere.” The word comes out fierce and possessive, but she doesn’t flinch. “You’re not going anywhere ever again.”

“Promise?”

I reach down and collect the mask from where it fell. Hold it up between us—the face I wear to hunt, to kill, to become the weapon they designed.

“I promise,” I say, then deliberately set it aside.

35

JENNA

“We’re going back to Chicago,” Nik says as he loads our bags into the SUV. “To the Nexus. My home.”

My stomach flutters with nerves. “Your brothers.”

“They’ve been waiting to meet you.” He closes the trunk and turns to face me. “Not as an acquisition. As mine.”