“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes. I’m yours.”
His breath hitched. “Good.”
He stood with me still in his arms and lowered me back against the couch. The fire snapped and hissed as he tore at his tie, then his shirt, stripping down with frantic purpose until he stood bare before me, lit by flame and shadow.
I reached for him without thinking, greedy, desperate, my legs hooking around his hips as he fumbled with my skirt. My heels struck the floor. Our mouths collided—clumsy, hungry, unfinished—like we were afraid time would run out if we paused.
The moment felt raw. Untouchable. Not just desire—devotion.
This wasn’t sex the way I’d known it. This was a vow. Body. Mind. Soul.
In our family, there were whispers about couples who were fully committed—how they didn’t just give their word, but their bodies, their souls. Their blood.
Louis stilled above me.
He pulled a knife from nowhere and sliced his palm open.
I gasped—but before I could speak, he took my hand and did the same. The sting barely registered as he pressed our palms together, blood to blood, and kissed me hard, sealing it.
I knew then.
We had crossed something.
“In life,” I murmured.
“In death.”
“Forever.” A tremor rolled through me, slow and visceral.
“Blood in,” he whispered against my mouth.
“No out.” I nodded. “We get in alive,” I added softly. “We get out dead.”
His hands anchored my hips as he pulled me fully to him, the motion so incredibly decisive—final—as if he were carving the promise into both of us and using the pain of the situation to make sure we remembered. My palm burned where it was cut. The fire flared, flames licking higher as the pact was made as he thrust into me and pinned me against the couch, eyes locked on me just daring me to look away while he staked his claim. I greedily wrapped myself around him as waves of pleasure washed over me. It was always supposed to be like this, crazy, fast, insane to it’s core, a relationship full of bloody oaths and no promises but the moment. I’d been chasing all this time and I’d lost the race. I hadn’t realized that I should have waited for the person willing to cross the finish line with me no matter the cost. His hips moved as he lifted me up gripping my ass angling himself so deep I lost my breath. There. So intimate. Right there. Tears of pleasure and pain welled in my eyes.
“I only see you.” He whispered. “And you’re terrifying.”
I devoured whatever else he was going to say with my mouth while my body gave into every inch of pleasure it could, sucking him dry, pulling him down with me. The fireplace roared in front of us while our bodies slid against each other. Vows made. Pleasure peaked. “You’re beautiful when you let go.” He tugged my ear with his teeth. “Now let me hear you scream.”
He slid his hand between us and I nearly lost consciousness it was just what I needed to fully lose control, to be sent over the edge into madness. “Louis!” I bit down on his shoulder as waves of pleasure washed over me. Panting he looked down asblood dripped from his shoulder right along with two small teeth marks. “Dangerous girl.”
He rolled with me onto the floor, still kissing me like letting go wasn’t an option. He wrapped my hand in a strip of his discarded shirt, poured another glass of wine, and pressed it into my fingers.
We sat there, disheveled and silent, staring into the fire.
Finally, he spoke. “If someone kills someone you love,” he said, “you have the right to take their life.”
I nodded. “A life for a life is fair.”
He drained his glass. “I’m glad you agree. Because the life I’m taking… it’s going to hurt you.”
My stomach twisted. I felt sick—but not surprised.
“Will you let me say goodbye?” I asked.
He exhaled. “You’ll know who it is when I give them a gift. The same way you gave me vials of poison. I’ll leave something precious—in the same box.” He looked at me. “You’ll have one hour.”
I wet my lips. “Will I hate you?”