Semua Bab Blind Desires: Bab 21 - Bab 30

TATETHE PRESSURE HIT first—hard, relentless, burning as he pushed inside. My nails tore into the sheets, a strangled sound ripping from my throat before I could even think to hold it back.“Fuck—” The word cracked out of me, breath shuddering, chest caving in as my body tried to fight it, tried to clench tight and keep him out. Useless. He was already inside, slow and steady, forcing my body to open around him inch by fucking inch.My eyes squeezed shut, jaw locked, but I couldn’t block out the weight of him, the heat, the goddamn stretch that had me shaking. He leaned down, lips brushing my ear, his breath hot, rough.“Breathe, Tate.”Like it was that fucking easy.I gasped, sucked in air that didn’t want to stay in my lungs, my legs twitching under the iron grip of his hands as he held me open. I hated the way my body betrayed me, the way a flicker of pleasure slipped through the pain coiling low in my stomach.“Jesus…” The groan tore out of me before I could swallow it down, and I

ENZOTHE WORDS STRECHED between us.“Let me outside this room. I won’t run. I swear.”For a second, I just stared at him, the heat of his body under my arm, his scent still clinging to me like a drug I didn’t want to admit I needed. His blue eyes were wide, searching, too clear for someone who’d already lived through three weeks of hell.I should’ve laughed. Should’ve reminded him what he was to me. Instead, the silence stretched to long, and I could feel how badly he wanted me to say yes.“No.”The word came out like a blade. Clean. Final.His throat worked as he swallowed. “Why not? What the fuck do you think I’m gonna do?”I pushed off the mattress and sat up, running a hand through my hair. “Why should I trust you?”“I’m not asking for a car and the damn keys to the front door,” he shot back, his voice cracking with frustration. “Just… let me stretch my legs. Walk down a hallway. Not sit here staring at the same four walls, the same bed, the same shirt—” He tugged at the fabric ha

TATETHE SILENCE WAS the worst part.Not the walls. Not the locked door. Not even the shadows I could never chase away no matter how much I paced the room. It was the quiet. It was thick, pressing, crawling under my skin until it felt like it might peel me open from the inside.I hadn’t seen him in days.That should’ve been a fucking blessing. A break. A chance to breathe without his shadow stretching over me. And yet… the emptiness burned and itched. My chest was restless, my head louder, my body wired like I was waiting for something that never came. It was stupid, really. I didn’t miss him. Missing implied wanting. This wasn’t that. This was my body too used to danger, too conditioned to his presence, that without it the silence felt… different.I sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, staring at the crack in the floorboard near the window like it might give me answers. It didn’t. It just sat there, splitting wood, same as it had yesterday and the day before.The air was

ENZOTRISTAN.THE NAME cracked through the haze like a bullet, sharp enough to tear me out of whatever drunken fog I’d been drowning in. My chest locked and for a heartbeat I didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t think.My arms were full of heat, of a body that didn’t belong to me, and my rut was already simmering close enough under my skin that I couldn’t tell if the burn in my blood was lust or memory. I’d reached without thinking, chasing something I shouldn’t, and for a fleeting second it had felt almost right.Then I saw the mirror.Not Tristan.The boy staring back at me wasn’t him. It was Tate—jaw tight, hands fisted on the porcelain sink, his chest rising too fast as if he’d been holding his breath for hours. His eyes cut into mine through the reflection, furious and confused, and something worse—hurt, a flicker of it, raw enough to make me want to tear the world apart just so I didn’t have to see it.My stomach dropped like I’d been gut-punched. The haze snapped, shattered, and

ENZOTHE RUT HAD its teeth in me.It wasn’t just heat under my skin anymore—it was fire, burning at my insides, leaving me pacing like a rabid dog with no chain. I’d gone two nights without sleep, drenched in sweat, fists bruised from slamming walls just to keep from losing it. The men gave me space. They knew better. But space didn’t cure it. Nothing did.By the time I called Amelia upstairs, I was already halfway gone.She came fast, eager, like she’d been waiting for the invitation. Maybe she had. Her smile was practiced sweet, her hands quick to slide over my chest like she knew the script by heart.But the second I looked at her, my chest locked. Brown curls. Green eyes. Too close. Too fucking close.Tristan.His ghost slammed into me so hard I almost staggered. My rut snarled, tore at me, begged me to take what was in front of me and pretend.So I did.I shoved Amelia against the wall, mouth crushing hers, not caring about her gasp of surprise. My tongue was rough, my teeth scra