Chapter 134
LEVI
I looked up at the canopy above us—stars blinking through the trees like scattered diamonds. My brain felt like it had exploded and melted into pure nothingness. A haze. A blissful fog. The world around us blurred, and yet her body, her warmth, her heartbeat against mine—that remained painfully clear.
We were breathing like wild things. Panting like animals who had just sprinted through a great forest, hunting or being hunted, devouring or being devoured.
I wrapped my arms around her tightly, possessively, my hands finding the soft curve of her chest again, and held her close. The forest around us grew darker, quieter, almost reverent, as if nature itself bowed to what had just taken place between us.
The breeze was gentle now, kissing our skin with cool fingers, rustling the leaves overhead like a lullaby meant only for us.
Somewhere in the stillness, a memory flickered to life—bright and blinding. Not something I could name, but something I felt. A sense of déjà vu, eerie and sacred. Like this—this exact moment—had happened before. Like she and I had done this in another lifetime, under a different sky. It occurred to me that every time I touched her, I was remembering instead of learning.
Why did everything we did together feel like that? Like some great memory of a love found and lost? And why hadn’t I found out the truth yet?
I would. I had to. But not now. Not while my heart still raced like it was trying to catch up with my soul. Not while my brain was still molten, still useless, still ruined from the taste of her. Nothing she said now would register or make sense to me. I should have thought about that before giving in to my desire for her—not like I could control it anyway. I was powerless when it came to her.
I shifted slightly, my hand brushing across her breast again, cupping it in a slow, lazy gesture that wasn’t about lust anymore—it was about belonging. About being. The moonlight filtered through the trees, wrapping us in silver like a painting. We could have been art. Statues left behind by gods who understood passion.
And then… I heard it. A soft, shallow snore. I froze. She was asleep.
Her breath was steady now, her lashes resting like feathers against flushed cheeks. I didn’t know if she was pretending—just to avoid the questions I hadn’t yet asked but would when I could afford to think again—or if she had truly surrendered to exhaustion. Either way, I had no desire to wake her. No intention to break this peace. I was done too. Wrecked in the most exquisite way.
I pressed one last kiss to her shoulder, closed my eyes, and let myself fall. Not just into sleep, but into her. Into this. Into everything I didn’t understand, but somehow couldn’t stop needing.
And that... was it. Her body rested against mine, breath slow and even, her skin still warm where it touched me. For a long moment, I let myself just feel—the weight of her, the silence of the forest, the trembling aftershock still rippling through my bones.
But sleep? Sleep was nowhere near me. Because I knew the truth had yet to be told.
Tomorrow morning, I promised myself—when the heat wore off, when my senses returned, when my heart wasn’t thudding like a war drum against my ribs—I would be fully alert. Clear-eyed. Ruthless. Nothing would stop me from prying the truth out of her. From finally knowing.
Who the hell are you, Isabella?
And God help me… may that ravenous, all-consuming desire that overtakes me every time I see her—every time I smell her, feel her, hear her voice—just give me a little mercy. Just a sliver of time. Enough to think. Enough to breathe. Enough to ask the damn question and actually listen to the answer.
But I wasn’t prepared. Not for what happened next.
Because when I opened my eyes to soft morning light, stretching through the trees like golden silk—she was gone. Vanished.
Her body, the heat of her, the scent of her perfume clinging to my chest—gone.
I blinked, once, twice. I sat up quickly, disoriented, heart slamming against my chest like it had been startled awake too. “Isabella?” I called out, voice rough with sleep and rising panic. “Isabella.”
Nothing. Not a footstep. Not a whisper. Not even the rustle of branches to suggest she’d walked away gently.
I looked down—and the next wave of confusion hit me like a slap. I was completely, utterly naked. Of course, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was— My clothes? Gone. Every last piece.
“Son of a—” I stood, staggered, bare feet pressing against the damp forest floor. “Isabella!”
I spun in a slow circle, eyes scanning the forest like I could conjure her out of the trees. Nothing. Just birdsong and sunlight and the faintest echo of her name on the wind.
Not only had she vanished—she’d taken my clothes with her. My pants. My shirt. My boxers. Even my belt.
That woman had outplayed me.
I burst out laughing—naked in the bush like a maniac. Then I stopped… and started again. “Oh, this is funny. She is good,” I said, amidst incredulous laughter. Then my jaw clenched as realization set in. A slow, burning smirk curled at the corner of my lips, even though my veins boiled in rage. “Oh… game on,” I muttered, teeth grinding.
Because I knew what this was now. She was hiding something. And now, she was playing me.
“Oh, you sweet girl,” I growled, dragging a hand through my hair, still sticky with sweat and sleep, sand and grass. “You really thought you could run off after a night like that? Take my clothes, leave me out here like some kind of wild fool?” I stopped. I really was a fool for her last night.
The truth wasn’t just a mystery anymore. It was a challenge.
I paced, blood roaring with something between fury and fascination. “What the hell are you running from? Who are you hiding from? And who’s making you play these stupid games?”
Silence. But the forest knew. The trees knew. The very air carried the scent of what we’d done.
I looked down again at my bare, marked skin—the teeth prints on my fingers, the cut there, the scratches on my chest. Proof that she’d been real.
But the silence that followed her disappearance burned worse than her absence.
I closed my eyes and exhaled. Slowly. Steadily. “All right, then,” I whispered to myself. “You want to run? Run. But let’s see how that will stop you from being my wife.”
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