she'll lie and steal and cheat and beg you from her knees
make you thinks she means it this time
He is masterful in the way that he takes apart, piece by piece. Her stomach flips and her nerves are on fire, but neither are weaknesses that she can admit. She matches the heat of his gaze with her own that is infuriatingly cool. She is not outright cold, cannot let herself slip into hate when it is such a sister emotion to that which truly burns within her, so she instead acts indifferent—she acts flippant. Each moment with her blinking calmly at him is another that causes her stomach to twist, it taking every ounce of her willpower to not rush into him or fling herself away. Even now, she is not sure what she wants more.
At his steely anger, she forces herself to laugh, the sound still bubbling on the edges of her mouth.
“I forgot how dramatic you are,” she rolls her eyes lightly. “We had fun. Wasn’t that enough?”
But of course it wasn’t because what they had was not fun. It had been world-ending. It had taken root in her and spread like wildfire. It had twisted around in her, threatening to rip away all of the careful masks that she had used for all of these years. He was the first to make her fingers tremble on the edges of them, the first to see her discard them, the first to see her for who she truly was underneath it all.
He doesn’t give her anytime to recover though. Because before she knows it, he’s at her side and his flesh is against hers, and she sucks in a breath before she can stop herself. She is dizzy with the suddenness of it, with the feel of him pressed against her, with the touch of his mouth on her.
She growls low and deep in her throat—for a moment, forgetting her mask, forgetting her shield. She casts it aside, wild with her love for him, burning with everything she has denied herself for so long, for forever. She twists into him, her teeth finding him, taking from him as he took from her. She tastes the salt of his flesh and the wildness that lies beneath the surface. She grows drunk on the moment.
When he pulls away, it leaves her aching and even more empty before, and she feels vulnerable in a way that she has rarely felt before. She reaches for whatever rags of dignity she can, but it’s too late to completely replace them. It’s too late to pretend. So she grows angry, matching the heat of his with her own. “Do you need so badly to hear me say it, Daemron?” Her voice has changed, the frothiness of it replaced with a husky growl, stripped bare of pretense, raw in emotions as his name finally escapes her.
“Is that what you want?”
Her eyes are wide and bare and she trembles before him.
“Fine. I love you, and it’ll kill me, Daemron. It’ll kill me.”
she'll tear a hole in you, the one you can't repair
but I still love her, I don't really care
