Did it matter? Priest irreparably hurt me, and Ashley was betrothed. In the end, I would end up alone. Or hanged.

Which was why I needed to stick to the plan. Love hurt. It betrayed and ruined. My plan was safe. It protected me, not Ashley or Priest. It ensured I wouldn’t be the one destroyed in the end.

Not only that, Priest was on my tail right now, and he wouldn’t be receptive to discovering I’d fallen in love with another man.

Had I fallen?

No, not quite. But as our gazes melded, those eyes held mine with an intensity that filled a terrible void inside me. The way he looked at me made me feel special, desired, almost loved.

I was doomed.

My need for this, for the sort of all-consuming love I could have with Ashley… It was greater than my survival. It was more essential than life. More significant than death. It was immutable. Immortal. Beyond all doubt and faith.

I needed him, plain and simple. Which meant I could never hurt him. I could never let Priest hurt him.

As I slowly came to terms with this, I was fantastically, undeniably terrified out of my mind.

I tried to straighten my twisting thoughts, tried to curve my lips into a casual smile, but nothing worked right. Not my brain. Not my mouth. I was cracking. Weakening. Losing my sanity.

We sat motionless, bodies entangled, gazes locked, sequestered together in the fading light, for no other reason than because we fit so perfectly this way.

It was too real. I wanted this too badly.

Doomed.

I looked away, but his stare stayed with me. His eye contact… Good God, it was more intimate and private than anything I’d ever experienced. Staring at him felt like making love, only closer, deeper, farther reaching.

What was this sorcery?

“Bennett.” His accent caressed. A delicious torment. Sensual. Excruciating.

I closed my eyes, trying in vain to draw air. The need he roused in me was so beautiful and frightening it was all I could do not to weep. I felt it rising—the scalding emotion, the swelling in my throat, the wetness behind my eyelids.

Warm hands framed my face. “Look at me.”

I placed a palm on his chest to push him away. He covered my touch, flattening it to flexed muscle. His heart hammered, strong and fast, and mine tripped over itself to keep up.

Opening my eyes, I found his lips an inch away, the tantalizing seam parting, drifting closer. “What are you—?”

“Your kiss, madam.” He planted it on me, buried it in me, deep and devastating, with a pledge to grow.

His mouth imparted so much passion and potency it stunned my senses. The sensual glide of his lips, the twist of his fingers in my hair, the roll of his tongue against mine—the execution put me to death and brought me back to life.