Chapter 5: Eden

The room goes still.

Even the music feels quieter.

His chest rises and falls like he’s run a marathon. His eyes are wild. Raw.

He looks at me like he’s bleeding.

And for the first time, I think I finally see him. The part of him he hides from everyone.

The broken part.

Salvatore runs both hands through his hair and starts pacing the room like a caged animal.

“You’re right, Eden,” he snaps, his voice low and bitter. “I kill people.”

He laughs once, but it’s hollow. Ugly.

“I’m bad, okay? You want the truth?” He spins around to look at me, eyes burning.

“I’m a fucking killer. I destroy families. I ruin lives. I do it for power. For money. Because that’s what I was raised to do.”

He pauses, breathing hard, jaw tight enough to crack.

“And you—” he gestures at me wildly, like I’m the most frustrating thing he’s ever seen. “You’re stupid for wanting me.”

The words slice through me. I flinch before I can stop myself.

His eyes falter the second he sees it. That tiny reaction.

But he doesn’t take it back.

He can’t.

I don’t cry. I don’t yell. I just stare at him.

And then I whisper, “I don’t know why I want you.”

Because I don’t.

I never know why I feel anything.

It just hits me.

All at once.

Always too much.

“I would stop it if I could,” I continue softly, voice trembling. “But I do. It’s like I was born to do it.”

He’s frozen, standing there like he doesn’t know what to do with the truth I just laid bare between us.

The air feels heavy, electric. Like the moment is alive and breathing.

I take a slow step forward. Then another.

“Salvatore,” I say his name quietly, like I’m testing how it feels in the space between us. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, but his eyes never leave mine.

So I keep going. “I don’t want the version of you that pretends to be good. I want this one.” I stop just in front of him. “The real one.”

He shakes his head slightly, voice low. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do.”

I reach up and gently touch his jaw. He doesn’t stop me.

“You think I don’t understand darkness?” I whisper. “You think I haven’t seen it? Lived it?”

My fingers trail to the collar of his shirt, and I let them linger. “I was raised in a house full of monsters, Salvatore. I learned how to survive them with a smile on my face and desire in my eyes. I learned to twist pain into power.”

He shudders under my touch, but still doesn’t stop me.

“So don’t tell me what I want. Don’t tell me I’m stupid. Just… let me have this.”

I lean in, brushing my lips against his cheek, slow and soft. I feel him tremble.

“I want you,” I whisper against his skin. “Even if it’s wrong. Even if it’s complicated. I want you like breathing.”

I pull back just enough to look into his eyes again.

His hands come up slowly, hesitantly—like he’s still fighting it. But then they land on my hips, warm and shaking.

“You shouldn’t,” he whispers. But his mouth is closer now. His forehead nearly resting against mine.

“But I do,” I whisper back.

And then he kisses me again—not like before.

This time it’s slow.

Deep.

Like he’s surrendering. Like he’s memorizing the taste of a sin he’s finally decided to commit.

His hands grip my waist tighter, pulling me into him, and I melt into the heat of his mouth. There’s no hesitation now. No war in his eyes. Only want.

I moan softly into the kiss, and he swallows it like it feeds him.

His mouth moves over mine with a hunger barely kept in check—his tongue sliding against mine, deep and claiming. Possessive.

His hands roam—up my spine, across my ribs, curling over my bare back like he can’t believe I’m real. I press closer, breasts flush against his chest, the friction sending sparks through me. I feel every inch of him. Hard. Hot. Caged by his control.

I reach for his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons, but he catches my wrist—his grip tight, trembling.

“Salvatore…” I whisper against his lips, breathless. “Don’t stop.”

He groans, like it physically hurts him to hear that. And he kisses me harder—mouth crushing mine, teeth grazing my bottom lip as his fingers finally tangle in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat.

He kisses there too. Slowly. Like worship.

And it feels like everything I’ve ever wanted.

“God,” he murmurs, lips dragging down to my collarbone. “You drive me fucking insane.”

“Then do something about it,” I whisper, grinding against him.

His hands slide down, gripping my ass, pulling me tighter against his lap as his mouth finds mine again—messy now. Desperate. Like we’re drowning in each other.

I can’t think. I can’t breathe. And I don’t want to.

But then—

He stills.

Right there, mouth hovering against mine, chest heaving.

“No,” he mutters suddenly. “Fuck.”

I blink, dazed. “What?”

He pushes me back—gently, but firm. His breathing ragged. Eyes wild again, but this time with panic. Regret.

“I can’t do this,” he says. “I can’t fucking do this.”

“Salvatore—”

“I shouldn’t have come here.” He’s already moving—standing, backing away like I’ve scorched him. “This was a mistake.”

And just like that—he’s gone.

The door clicks shut behind him.

And I’m left standing in the golden silence, mouth swollen, skin still humming, heart pounding like I’ve just survived a war I never agreed to fight.

Still bare.

Still wanting.

Still burning.

And more alone than ever.