The answer had come without hesitation.

"You’re Lukas," she’d said simply. "Whatever else you are, whatever memories you carry, you’re the person who’s been driving me crazy for months. You’re the person who finally kissed me instead of just staring. You’re the person who makes me feel like being second best isn’t even a possibility when I’m with you." She’d pressed her palm flat against his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her fingers. "I don’t care about whatever life you lived before. I care about this one. And in this one, you’re mine."

He’d kissed her so hard after that declaration that they’d ended up going another round despite both their exhausted states.

The memory made Sloane smile against his hair.

She still didn’t fully understand what he’d meant. A life before this one. Memories of somewhere else. It sounded impossible. It sounded like the kind of thing that should have sent her running to Diane or the IHL or someone who could explain what was happening to the boy she’d grown up with.

But Sloane had spent nine years watching Lukas Belmont disappear into himself. Had spent nine years wishing he’d look at her the way she secretly wanted to be looked at. Had spent nine years loving him in quiet, frustrated silence while he refused to see her as anything except his guardian’s daughter.

The version of him that existed now saw her.

Really saw her, in ways that made her feel exposed and terrified and absolutely alive all at the same time. He saw her competitive streak and matched it. Saw her insecurity and refused to let her hide behind it. Saw the parts of herself she’d always considered too aggressive, too intense, too much, and called them exactly what he wanted.

If that version of him came from somewhere else, from some other life she couldn’t understand or access, then fine. She’d take him anyway. She’d take whatever version of Lukas Belmont wanted her this badly, touched her this thoroughly, looked at her like she was the first thing he thought about when he woke up and the last thing he wanted to see before he slept.

The alternative was unthinkable.

A lifetime without him. A future where she’d have to watch him with other women without being first. A world where the bond between them didn’t exist and she was just another girl who’d loved someone who couldn’t love her back.

Sloane’s arms tightened around his sleeping form.

No. Whatever complications came with Lukas Belmont, whatever other women circled his orbit like planets around a sun, whatever impossible origin story explained the changes she’d witnessed. None of it mattered more than this. More than the weight of him against her. More than the way his breath warmed her collarbone with each exhale. More than the certainty pulsing through their connection that he was hers in every way that counted.

She thought about Felicity Hardy. Blonde and bubbly and genuinely charming in ways that made Sloane’s competitive instincts flare every time they shared a room. Felicity, who’d claimed the seat beside Lukas at breakfast like it was her birthright. Felicity, who touched him casually, constantly, in ways that communicated ownership without ever saying the words out loud.

Felicity, who’d spent part of today with her mouth on him.

The jealousy returned, hot and bitter at the back of Sloane’s throat.

But Lukas had come to her afterward. Had shown up at her door smelling like vanilla and sin and had let her take out her feelings on his body for hours until neither of them could move. Had told her she was first. Had promised her that nothing with anyone else would ever change what she meant to him.

Sloane wanted to believe that.

Needed to believe it, because the alternative was accepting that she’d given herself to someone who couldn’t give himself back. That she’d handed over the most vulnerable parts of herself to a boy who might one day decide that she wasn’t enough to hold his attention. That the bond between them, this impossible supernatural connection that made her feel him even when they were apart, was just another form of chains.

"Stop thinking so loud."

The voice was rough with sleep, muffled against her neck, and Sloane’s heart stuttered at the sound of it.

"You’re awake."

"Your brain is practically vibrating." Lukas shifted against her, not pulling away, just adjusting his position so he could press a lazy kiss to her pulse point. "I can feel it through the bond. What’s wrong?"

"Nothing’s wrong."

"Liar." He nipped at her skin, gentle punishment. "You’re spiraling about something. I can taste the anxiety. Tell me."

Sloane closed her eyes. "I was thinking about what you told me. Months ago. About the life you lived before."

His body went still for a moment. Then his hand found hers, lacing their fingers together on top of her stomach where his palm had been resting.

"What about it?"

"I still don’t understand it. How it works. What it means." She turned her head, pressing her lips to his temple. "But I decided a long time ago that it doesn’t matter. You’re here. You’re you. That’s enough."

"Sloane." His voice carried something heavy. Something that sounded almost like gratitude.

"I can’t imagine a lifetime without you," she continued, the words spilling out before she could second-guess them. "Whatever version of you this is, wherever you came from, I can’t imagine not having you. And that terrifies me, Lukas. It terrifies me how much I need you. How much I’ve restructured everything I am around you being in my life."

He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at her with those amber eyes that saw too much and never looked away.

"You terrify me too," he said simply. "If that helps."

"It doesn’t."

"Didn’t think so." He smiled, that crooked grin she’d been weak for since she was fourteen and too stubborn to admit it. "For what it’s worth, I can’t imagine a version of my life without you either. Whatever I was before, whatever I remember from before. None of it compares to this. To you. You’re the realest thing I’ve ever touched."

Sloane pulled him down into a kiss that started soft and ended desperate, her body arching up against his despite the soreness that protested every movement.

"Again?" His voice held amusement and heat in equal measure. "I thought you couldn’t feel your legs."

"I can’t." She wrapped those same legs around his waist anyway, pulling him closer. "I don’t care. I want you inside me again."