Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

His voice breaks. “Not even for love.”
Pulse pounding, my whole body trembling, I stare up at his
beautiful face and anguished eyes, so full of pain and
darkness, and realize what he’s telling me.
We’re doomed.
I suppose I already knew it. This thing between us isn’t
built to last. Aside from the logistics of trying to maintain a
relationship while living three thousand miles apart, raw
passion like ours isn’t sustainable.
The hotter it burns, the faster it flames out.
Add the mafia as the cherry on top of our fucked-up
sundae, and you’ve got a tragedy in the making.
So what else is new? It’s not like my life so far has been a
romantic comedy.
I reach up and frame his face in my hands, the scruff on his
jaw rough and springy under my fingertips. “I hear you. But
you’re forgetting something.”
He waits, tense and unblinking, his gaze drilling into mine.
I whisper, “I’m a ride or die. All in or nothing. It doesn’t
matter where we live or how far apart we are. I’m yours. You
make your vows in blood, but I make them with my heart. And
my heart belongs to you now. I don’t need a picket fence or
picnics in the park. I only need what you give me. And it’s the
most beautiful thing I’ve ever known.”
After a moment, he says roughly, “Which is?”
“Yourself.”
His eyes flutter closed. He swallows and moistens his lips.
Then he rolls to his back, flips me on top of him, and exhales
hard, staring up at the ceiling as he cradles my head in one
hand and hugs me hard against his chest.
We fall asleep like that, hearts beating in time in the
darkness, all our problems and the world outside waiting to
break us apart held back for a while as we sleep, entangled,
dreaming of a place we could be together without hiding.