This is wrong. To pursue sex with the man I intend to kill. I know it is, and I wonder if Montes ever had thoughts like this before he took me—in the beginning. Because my plans aren’t changing, yet I still want this desperately, and I will take it.

He jerks my pants to my ankles then tosses me onto the bed. Now, as I see him prowling towards me, I remember why I’m usually the more subdued of the two of us.

I’m not sure I can handle him in all his intensity. Not here, where all the pretty layers that usually make me hardened have been stripped away with my clothes.

Hell lives inside me, and it’s been consuming me for the last several hours.

Montes will see all my ugly intentions the moment we’re locked together.

He unlaces one of my boots and tugs it off, throwing it over his shoulder. He does the same to the other. The entire time he watches me, those eyes.

Carelessly, he removes my pants and lets them drop to the floor. My panties follow soon after. Then he’s between my legs, looming over me, his chest brushing against my own.

Montes searches my face. “What’s bothering you?” he asks.

I need to pull myself together.

Instead of answering, I draw him to me and kiss his lips. My hands find his hair and I take great pains to muss it up.

I hear his rumble of approval deep in his chest. I know he hasn’t forgotten his question, and I know he’s probably more suspicious now than he was before.

I need to make him forget, to make us both forget.

No sooner does the thought cross my mind than he wraps an arm around my waist and rolls us so that I’m staring down at him.

He unsnaps my bra and throws it to the side of the bed.

“You’re no longer shy,” he says.

Belatedly I realize that I used to make a habit of covering myself. I don’t do that now.

“Does that make you sad?” I ask. In the past, Montes took great pleasure in shocking me when it comes to things between a man and a woman.

He sits up slowly, his abs tightening as he does so, until our chests are pressed together.

“No,” he says, touching my scar. “I liked your modesty, but I love this more.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because it means you’ve accepted me.”

My expression is on the verge of collapsing.

Montes saves me from myself; he recaptures my mouth, and we’re desperate for each other once more. It’s not until he lifts me onto him and he slides into me inch by agonizing inch that our frantic movements slow.

I exhale out my breath once we’re fully joined, my arms twined around his neck. I stare into his eyes as I begin to move, my fingers playing absently with his hair.

“Say it,” he whispers.

Swallowing back my emotion, I shake my head.

We’re wrapped up in each other, our limbs tangled, and now his arms tighten around me. “I know you want to. I see it in your eyes.”

I know he can.

“You don’t get to have all of me, Montes.” I don’t know why I say it. Maybe to harken back to the very beginning, because I’m feeling sentimental. Maybe to protect my heart, even though it’s too late. I don’t know.

I expect his normal retort. He doesn’t give me it.

He brushes my hair back from my face. “Alright, Serenity. Alright,” he says. His eyes are sad again. “This is enough.”

I lean my forehead against his shoulder to hide my expression.

His hand tips my chin back up. He frowns at what he glimpses on my face. “Don’t hide from me.”

He flips us so that I’m staring up at him.

My terrible, undying king.

Who knew at the beginning of things that it would all come to this?

He makes love to me slowly, drawing out each thrust. He stares at me the entire time.

“Nire bihotza, nire emaztea, nire bizitza. Maite izango dut nire heriotzaren egun arte,” he says.[1]

“What are you saying?” I ask.

He cups my face. “Just a promise.” His thumbs rub my cheeks as he moves in and out of me.

“Now,” he thrusts harder, ratching up the sweet burn, “come for me, my queen. I want your cries in my ear.”

As if on command, sensation builds. I fight it, wanting to stretch this out for as long as I can.

Montes has other thoughts.

He puts more power behind each stroke and he takes the tip of one of my breasts into his mouth. I squirm against him, panting as I try to stave my climax off.

“Come—for—me.” He punctuates each word with a thrust.

All at once, against my will, my orgasm rips through me. I clutch Montes, my back arching as each wave of it washes over me. I feel him swell as his release follows my own.

The two of lock eyes as our sweat-slicked bodies crash against each other. I want this moment to last. But then it ends.

Montes eventually slides out of me, dragging my body onto his.

He holds me to him, stroking my back.

I wrap my arms tightly around him. Our ragged breathing eventually evens.

I don’t want this night to end. I never want it to end.

Running a hand over his chest, I ask, “Montes, do you think we could have ever been good people?”

“My queen is full of deep thoughts tonight.”

I don’t bother responding.

He tilts my head back to face his. “I think we still can be. I don’t think it’s too late to try.”

I maintain eye contact with him, but it takes so much effort. I want to curl up into him and just let go. I think death, when it comes for me, will be a great release. Oblivion from this cruel world.