I touch her cheek with the backs of two of my fingers, and she freezes. I freeze, too, as a rush of chaotic emotions stabs me in the chest. It’s a mere touch, but it’s enough to kill all the dark thoughts I had after I saw her fake corpse. For the first time in months, I breathe fresh air. For the first time in months, I feel everything. She’s here. She’s mine again—even if she’d argue otherwise. Her wide eyes fill with fire, and she slaps my hand away. The gesture stings more than the hit itself. If it were any other time, I’d grab her by the throat, tie her up, and fuck her for the
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