HAZEL
"Us?" He caught my wrist. Held it firm. "There is no us. You made that very clear."
"I was being realistic." I let tears gather in my eyes. Not real tears. But he wouldn’t know the difference. "I was trying to protect myself from the inevitable. From the moment when my father marries me off to some Alpha I’ve never met and I lose everything."
"But Fia..." he started.
"Fia is different." I cut him off. "We made that happen. We orchestrated it. And Cian is a man. Men get to choose. I don’t."
The tears spilled over. I let them fall.
"I couldn’t take the heartbreak," I whispered. "Of getting close to you. Of letting myself really love you. And then losing it all anyway."
Milo’s grip on my wrist loosened.
"But if it’s what you want." I looked up at him through wet lashes. "If you really want to tell Cian everything. Then I’ll accept it. I’ll accept whatever comes."
"Hazel..."
"Just." I stepped closer. Pressed against him. "Just let me have tonight. Before you destroy everything. Let me have one more night where I can pretend."
I kissed him.
He didn’t kiss back at first. His body was rigid. Resistant.
"I love you," I breathed against his lips. "I do. I was just scared to admit it."
His hands came up. Pushed me away.
"You’re doing it again." His voice was hard. "You’re using me. Playing games."
"I’m not." I wiped at my tears. Real ones now, because this wasn’t working. "Milo, please. I’m not playing games. I’m trying to tell you the truth."
"The truth." He laughed. Bitter and broken. "You don’t know what truth means."
"Then let me prove it." I moved back toward him. Slower this time. "Let me show you."
"How?"
I took his hand. Placed it over my heart. Let him feel how fast it was beating.
"You could stay by my side," I said softly. "At all times. Even after I marry whoever my father chooses or the next Alpha that comes knocking. You could be with me."
His face darkened. "Like a mistress."
"Like a lover." I corrected. "My true love. The person who actually matters."
"While you marry some Alpha for political gain."
"Yes." I didn’t look away. "Is that so terrible? To have part of me instead of none of me?"
He pulled his hand back. "This is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re manipulating me. Using my feelings to get what you want."
"I’m trying to find a way for us both to survive!" My voice rose. "Don’t you understand that? If you go to Cian, we both lose everything. But if you stay quiet, we can figure something out. We can find a way to be together."
"By lying."
"By surviving." I grabbed his shirt. Held on tight. "Please, Milo. Please don’t do this. Do not let your male pride which is what I have been most afraid of, to fuck our lives over."
He looked at me for a long moment. I could see him weighing it. See him trying to figure out if I was telling the truth or spinning another web.
"Prove it," he said finally.
"What?"
"Prove you’re not lying." His eyes were hard. "Prove you actually love me and this isn’t just another manipulation."
My mind raced. What could I say? What truth could I give him that would convince him without actually giving anything up?
Then it hit me.
"You’re the only man I’ve ever had sex with."
The words hung in the air.
Milo’s expression changed. Softened. Just slightly.
"What?"
"You heard me." I held his gaze. "I’ve never been with anyone else. Not before you. Not during. Only you."
It was true. Technically. I’d fooled around with others. Kissed. Touched. But actual sex? That had only been Milo. And that was simply because he had a remarkable penis.
And I could see it working. Could see the way his face shifted. The way the hardness cracked just a little.
"Hazel..."
"I gave you something I’ve never given anyone else." I moved closer again. "Doesn’t that count for anything?"
His hands came up. Hesitated. Then settled on my waist.
"You’re still manipulating me," he said. But his voice was quieter now. Less certain.
"Really?" I touched his face again. "Or maybe I’m just desperate. Maybe I’m scared of losing the one person who actually made me feel something real."
I kissed him again.
This time, he kissed back.
Milo’s mouth was still damp from the kiss, his lips parted just slightly as if stunned by the weight of what I’d said. His breath caught when I dropped to my knees.
The tile of his room was cold. His body wasn’t. I reached for his pants and worked them off. His cock was already reacting to me and begging for release. When I tore his pants down to his knees, his already-thick and rising in front of me-cock flushed red and angry, like it had been waiting just as long as I had to be let back in. I wrapped a hand around him without ceremony, feeling the twitch, the heat, the way he stiffened even more just from that first glide of my palm.
"You’re really doing this?" he asked, voice lower now, gutted with disbelief.
"Shut up," I murmured, not looking up. "I’m not asking."
And I didn’t. I dragged the flat of my tongue from base to tip, wetting him in long, slow strokes, tasting salt, heat, and something distinctively Milo. He was throbbing already. I could feel it in the way his thighs flexed when I took the head in my mouth, the way his fingers fisted at his sides.
"Fffuck—Hazel—"
That tone. Half warning, half plea. I sucked harder, lips stretched, cheeks hollowing as I worked him deep, deeper still, until the thick crown nudged the back of my throat and I moaned around him. Not for performance. For real. He filled my mouth like nothing else ever had, and I wanted it all. My jaw ached, but I didn’t pull back. I pushed through it, spit slicking down my chin, my fingers massaging the base, stroking in time with every bob.
"Shit—shit, that mouth," Milo groaned, hand finally coming to the back of my head, fingers knotting in my hair. "You fucking—Hazel—"
His hips jerked, just once, just enough to choke me briefly on his length. I gagged, eyes watering, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. He was close. I felt it... How the base of his cock pulsed, how his thighs tensed harder, how his breath stuttered into a growl.
I pulled off with a lewd pop just long enough to whisper, "Come for me."
And he did.
Grunting low and filthy, he pumped ropes across my face, my lips, my tongue. Warm, thick jets coating my cheek, dripping from my chin as I gasped, licking at the head like I couldn’t get enough. His whole body trembled with the release, groaning my name like it hurt to say it, and I stared up at him, glistening, triumphant, still catching my breath.
His hand came to my face, thumb wiping at the mess even as his mouth dipped closer for a kiss.
I leaned back.
"No," I said, my voice quiet but cutting. "You don’t get to kiss me like that. Not when I never know what the fuck you’re going to do next."
His eyes searched mine, conflicted, still catching his breath.
"I can’t take it hot and cold anymore," I said, licking a stray drop off my lip. "But goddamn it, I’ll will miss that cock."
He blinked. "Hazel— what the fuck, are you talking about?"
"I said I will miss your penis," I said.
Then I screamed.
"HELP!" I shrieked, raw and real and echoing off the room’s tile. "HEEELP—!"