Where Darkness Learned Breath by Rylor Dusk 83

Posted by ADMINMMADMIN, ? Views, Released on January 17, 2026

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83 Chapter 83:

Aria pov

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“Then let me prove it.” He stepped closer. I could see the stubble on his jaw, darker now in the evening light. “Every day, for however long it takes. Let me prove I’m not going anywhere.”

“And if you can’t? If one day you wake up and realize this is too hard, too messy, too complicated?”

“Then I’ll push through anyway.” His hands framed my face. His palms were warm against my cheeks. “Because the alternative–a life without you and Noah–is worse than any difficulty.”

I wanted to believe him. But belief was a luxury I couldn’t afford yet.

The security system beeped from the living room. Someone moving on the balcony camera. We

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both tensed, but then a voice came through the intercom. “Just Martinez doing rounds, Mr. Blackwood.”

Damien relaxed but I didn’t.

“Do you have feelings for him?” The question burst out him “For Lucas?”

I blinked at the sudden change of topic. “What? No. Why would you”

“He said he loves you.” Damien’s voice was careful. “And he’s a good man. Stable, kind, successful. Everything I wasn’t years ago.”

“But he’s not you.”

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Damien’s eyes searched mine. “Would it matter if I did?” I countered. “Have feelings for him? You don’t own me, Damien.”

“I know.” His voice cracked. Actually cracked, like something breaking. “But it would destroy me, Aria. Knowing you could choose someone else.

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Someone who didn’t fail you someone worthy of

you.”

“Stop.” I pressed my hand to his chest, his heart was racing under my palm. Fast, hard beats that matched my own. “Just stop. I don’t want Lucas. I don’t want anyone else, i want”

“What?” His hand covered mine, pressing it harder against his chest. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” The word came out barely a whisper. My throat was tight, making it hard to speak. “I want you and it terrifies me.”

His whole body shuddered. I felt it run through

him, head to toe. Like an electric current.

“Aria”

“Don’t.” I stepped back before I could do something stupid. My back hit the wall. The paint was cool through my thin shirt. “Don’t say anything. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s late, I’m

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tired, I’m not thinking clearly”

“You’re thinking perfectly clearly.” He followed me. Planted his hands on the wall on either side of my head. Boxing me in but not touching me. you just told me exactly what I needed to

“And

hear.”

I could smell him. That mix of cologne and soap and something that was just him that made my head spin.

“Damien”

“Do you know what it does to me?” His voice was roughly low. The kind of voice that made heat pool in my stomach. “Hearing you say you want me? After everything I did, everything I destroyed -you still want me.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” He pulled me close. His arms went around me, solid and strong. “You should

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hate me. Should’ve moved on. Should’ve chosen

someone like Lucas who would worship you from day one.”

“But I didn’t.”

“But you didn’t.” His forehead pressed to mine. I could feel his breath on my face. “And I’m selfish enough, broken enough, desperate enough to be grateful for that.”

My hands were on his chest. I could feel his muscles under the thin fabric of his shirt. Feel the

rise and fall of his breathing.

“We’re a mess,” I whispered.

“The biggest mess I’ve ever seen.” He smiled against my hair. I felt the curve of his lips. “But we’re our mess. And somehow, that makes it perfect.”

I pulled back to look at him. His eyes were dark in the dim hallway. “Nothing about this is perfect.”

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“No,” he agreed as his thumb traced my jawline. The touch sent shivers down my spine. “But it’s real. Complicated and painful and terrifying–but real, and after years of regrets and what–ifs, I’ll take real over perfect any day.”

I wanted to kiss him. Wanted to forget about Marcus and the danger and fear and just lose myself in him. My eyes dropped to his mouth. His lips were slightly parted. I could feel the heat radiating off his body.

But Noah’s door was right there. Just a few feet

away and Marcus was out there somewhere. Planning. Waiting. And nothing was resolved. We were standing in a heavily guarded penthouse because a psychopath wanted us dead.

This wasn’t the time no matter how much my body disagreed.

“We should sleep,” I said instead. My voice came out hoarse. “Separate rooms with our clear

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heads.”

Disappointment flickered across his face. His jaw tightened. His arms loosened around me. But he nodded. “Whatever you need.”

“What I need is for you to not give up on me.” I touched his face. The stubble rasped against my fingertips. “Even when I push you away. Even when I’m scared and angry and impossible. Don’t give up.”

“Never.” He caught my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. His lips were soft, warm. The touch sent heat straight through me. “You’re stuck with me, Aria Monroe. For better or worse.”

Never.” He caught my hand and pressed a soft kiss to my palm before I could pull away. Warm. Steady. Too steady for the chaos in my chest. “You’re stuck with me, Aria Monroe. For better or

worse.”

“We’re not officially married,” I said, my voice

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thinner than I wanted. “To the world we’re

divorced and separated. I was… honestly shocked when you told me we didn’t finalize the divorce.” The memory of that moment hit me again disorienting me. “I didn’t even know there were preliminary documents versus the actual final decree. I thought it was all one thing. I thought we signed, and that was it.”

He didn’t interrupt, he just watched me, jaw tight.

“I remember being pushed out of my parent house years ago thinking, okay… this is done, this is the line. This is the end.” My throat tightened. “And then you come back and tell me it wasn’t? That the papers sitting in some drawer weren’t

the real ones?”

Damien exhaled, slow and heavy. “I was a selfish bastard who wanted power over you, even though I pushed you away,” he said, eyes

narrowing–not in anger, but in regret. Real

regret. “As for us not being officially married… it’s

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just a matter of time.”

“That’s not the point, Damien,” I said. My hands

were trembling now, so I curled them into fists. I didn’t understand how the divorce wasn’t finalized. I kept replaying it in my mind. I signed everything they put in front of me. I did my part. I didn’t know you didn’t do yours.”

His expression softened, but not in a comforting way. More like something in him caved in and didn’t bother hiding it.

“I know it confused you,” he said quietly. “I know it wasn’t fair. You were trying to move on, trying to start over, and here I was… clinging to whatever pathetic scrap of connection I still had to you.‘

My stomach twisted. “You could’ve just signed it and also handed me the real documents to sign.”

“I couldn’t,” he said, and the honesty in his voice was almost painful. “Every time I tried to sign my

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part, something kept stopping me. I’d sit there, pen in hand, staring at the last page… and I just couldn’t make myself do it. Because signing it meant accepting that everything between us was truly over.”

I swallowed hard as he stepped closer, not touching me this time, just close enough that I could hear the breath he let out.

“But we will be married again,” he said, voice low but steady. “When you’re ready. When you trust me again, when we’re not drowning in danger and fear. We’ll do it right this time.”

“That’s very presumptuous.”

“That’s very certain.” He smiled, not the sad smile

from before. A real one. “Because I know

something you don’t.”

“What’s that?”

“That you’re already falling for me.” His thumb

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brushed my jaw. The touch was gentle but it burned. “Just like I fell for you years too late. But this time, I’ll be here to catch you.”

Before I could respond, he kissed my forehead and walked away. His footsteps were quiet on the hardwood. I heard his bedroom door open and close.

I stood in the hallway, my heart pounding, my mind racing. My whole body felt hot and cold at the same time. My hands were shaking as I pressed them against the wall to steady them.

The hallway was quiet now. Just the hum of the air conditioning. The distant sound of traffic from far below. The soft beep of the security system doing its checks.

He was right. Damn him, he was right.

I was falling.

And it was absolutely terrifying.

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I pushed off the wall but my legs felt weak. I made my way to my bedroom. The bed looked too big, too empty. I could go to him. Walk down the hall, open his door and let this happen.

But I didn’t.

Instead I climbed into bed. Pulled the covers up and stared at the ceiling.

Sleep wouldn’t come. I knew it wouldn’t. But I

closed my eyes anyway. And tried not to think about Damien down the hall. I tried not to think about the way his hands felt on my face. The way his voice sounded when he said my name.