I let out a shuddering breath, clinging to him with everything I had, and I kissed him again, hard and desperate, needing him to understand, needing him to feel what I couldn’t put into words. I had been so fearful, but he was still here. Still whole. Still mine. And if I was a storm, then he was the one thing unshaken in its wake. I had spent my entire life running, from my father, from my past, from the power that lived inside me, but not anymore. I wasn’t running. I was his.
