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“I want keys to my own apartment,” I continued. “You don’t enter unless I invite you. You don’t buy my workplace. You don’t track my phone, threaten customers, bribe delivery drivers, or acquire furniture that I don’t preapprove.”
“The couch was comfortable.”
“The couch was psychological warfare.”
“But it had excellent lumbar support.”
“Lux.”
He sighed. “Agreed.”
I touched the silver burns at his throat. His breath stopped beneath my fingers. “I love the monster,” I said. “I don’t need you domesticated.” His eyes darkened. “I need you to be honest with me.”
His hand lifted, hovering near my hip without touching. “I don’t know how to love you right.”
“I’m not asking for that. I already love how you love me now.” I drew in a breath. “But I also don’t want to disappear in your shadow.”
Lux met my eyes, his expression softening into something kind. “You were never small enough to disappear,” he said.
“I felt small.”
His hand lowered. That tiny retreat hurt, though I knew I needed him to hear the rest.
“I spent my whole life feeling forgettable,” I said. “No magic, mate mark, or money. Two jobs and a coffee machine held together by threats and blood sacrifices. Then you saw me, and it felt good. Horrible, terrifying, invasive, sure—but good.” My fingers shook against his throat. “You saw every part of me before I knew those parts existed.”
“I saw what I wanted to see.”
“No, you saw me.” I smiled, my eyes getting wet. “Before I even saw myself. You showed me a side of myself I didn’t know existed before now.”
His eyes closed for a moment.
“That’s why it hurt,” I whispered. “You knew me well enough to understand how badly I wanted someone to choose me, and you used it against me.”
His face tightened.
“I did.” The words came out damaged.
My anger softened at the edges, replaced by grief, love, and desire strong enough to make me resent my own hormones.
“I still choose you,” I said and immediately hated how simple the sentence sounded compared to the mess sitting between us. “Don’t make that face. I didn’t say you were forgiven.”
Lux’s mouth opened, then closed again. Smart demon. Learning already.
“I’m choosing to stay,” I continued. “Tonight. Tomorrow too, assuming you don’t do anything spectacularly stupid before breakfast. After that, you keep earning it.”
His eyes went suspiciously shiny. “Liv.”
“No. You do not get to get emotional and make me feel nice right now. I’m still pissed.”
A laugh escaped him and immediately became a grimace when his ribs objected.
“See? Already making terrible decisions.” I caught his wrist before he could press his hand against them. “I choose you,” I repeated. “And not because of the bond or because you own half the city. Not even because your shadow dog has upsettingly cute ears.”
“The Hound heard that.”
“Good. He needs confidence after the Mandi murder-puppy incident.”
A rough laugh left Lux. Pain pulled across his face again, and this time I let his hand go to his ribs.
