<b>Chapter </b>114


    ATASHA’S POV


    He took a step back, giving me the space that I so desperately needed.


    <b>43 </b>


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    Then without saying another word, he unsped the ruined armor piece by piece, letting it crash onto the floor until nothing shielded him but the blood–soaked tunic beneath. My breath caught as he grabbed the fabric and tore it open with one swift motion.


    I hissed at the sight, my hand flying to my mouth. His body was drenched, streaked with red, but as my gaze searched his chest, my stomach lurched. There were no wounds. No cuts. Not even bruises.


    That wasn’t his blood.


    I froze. If it wasn’t his, then whose was it?


    “Cassian-” Before I could finish my question, his head turned sharply, those crimson eyes pinning me where I stood.


    I froze. Something inside me screamed to run, to put distance between us, but my feet wouldn’t move. This wasn’t the Cassian who had shielded me from the stone, the one who carried me away from the outpost as though nothing else mattered.


    The man in front of me felt different, heavier, darker, almost dangerous in a way that pulled at me instead of pushing me back.


    I barely had time to think before his hand shot out. His palm closed around my throat, not tight enough to strangle, but firm, controlling, forcing me back until my shoulders hit the wall. The impact stole my breath. My hands twitched at my sides, torn between pushing him away and clinging to him.


    His face was close. Too close. His eyes burned crimson, staring at me like I was the only thing in existence. He leaned in, his nose brushing my skin, inhaling slowly, deeply, like he was memorizing every part of my scent.


    My stomach twisted, my body going hot and cold all at once. The sound of his breathing was ragged, and every exhale ghosted against my jaw.


    Fear pounded in my chest, but it wasn’t clean. It tangled with something else, something that made my pulse race faster. I hated the way my body responded, the way my lips parted without permission, the way my skin lit up under his touch as though it had been waiting for it.


    “Cassian…” My voice came out broken. But it sounded more like a plea than protest.


    He didn’t answer. His grip stayed at my throat like a steady pressure that held me in ce, iming me without words. Then his gaze dropped to my mouth, then back to my eyes. And I couldn’t look away.


    Every part of me tensed as he leaned closer, so close I felt the heat of him against my lips. My chest rose and fell in shallow bursts, my mind screaming at me to pull away, but my body betraying me, leaning into him


    instead.


    Then his mouth crushed against mine.


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    It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was desperate, consuming, like he was trying to brand me as his. My hands finally moved, pressing against his chest, not to push him away but to hold onto something solid because my knees were weak. His kiss was rough, but my body responded with a hunger that terrified me. My lips parted beneath his without thought, without reason, letting him in because the alternative felt like breaking apart.


    I should have been afraid, and I was. But more than that, I was alive in his arms, every nerve burning with the weight of him against me, every thought drowned under the truth that I wanted more even as fear wed at <ol><li>me. </li></ol>


    I wasn’t supposed to like this. I wasn’t supposed to feel anything but fear for the monster I had married. That was what I had told myself from the very beginning. But standing here, pinned to the wall with his mouth iming mine, there was no fear left.


    What I felt was heat. A rush of warmth that spread through me until it drowned everything else. My chest ached, not from terror, but from need. The kind that wed at me, demanding more.


    I didn’t know where the courage came from. Maybe it wasn’t courage at all, maybe it was madness. But my arms moved on their own, sliding up his chest until they locked around his neck. The moment I pulled him down, his body pressed harder against mine. The wall at my back and his weight in front of me left no escape.


    My legs shifted, curling around his waist. The motion dragged him even closer, forcing every line of his body against mine. The air caught in my throat, my skin burning under the contact. I didn’t stop to think about what I was doing, or why. I only knew that in his embrace, the emptiness inside me finally shut up.


    His kiss deepened, rougher now, his grip on my throat tightening just enough to remind me who held control. My body trembled, but it wasn’t from fear. It was from the way he consumed me and the way I gave in without realizing it.


    Then, as sudden as it began, he broke the kiss. His lips left mine, but his breath still ghosted against my skin. His forehead pressed to mine for a second, his chest rising and falling fast. When he finally spoke, his voice was raw, edged with something I couldn’t name.


    “What have you done to me?”


    The wordsnded heavier than his grip, rough and using, but not cold.


    My head tipped back enough to meet his eyes. His eyes locked on mine. The intensity of it made my chest tighten, and before I could stop myself, heat flooded my face.


    Shame burned at the edges of my thoughts, but it tangled with something else I couldn’t control, something heavier, hotter. It twisted low in my stomach and refused to let go.


    Part of me wanted to disappear, to erase the reckless thing I had just done. But another part, the other part that was louder and hungrier, wanted him toe back to me, to close the distance again and not stop.


    And I hated that I didn’t know which part of me was winning.