Archive of Our Own

Claire turned off her car engine and with that, the lights and loud music faded away, leaving her in almost suffocating silence. 

She was finally there, around low buildings and pine trees towering over the town of Duskwood. Since the first message from Thomas, all those long months ago, she had known she had to come there finally.

After the dust had settled, she was ready to visit, to stand face to face with the reality of  friendships built on shared trauma, fear and betrayal. Tomorrow, she would embrace Jessy tightly and wouldn’t let go for hours. She would finally meet Hannah, make sure Thomas hadn't lost his mind entirely and punch, then hug Dan. Maybe Lilly, and Cleo, would be there, too. 

Maybe they would find solace in each other and try to come up with ideas about the future. 

Still, it would be tomorrow. Today, Claire was sitting in the car, in an almost empty parking lot, squeezing her hands on the steering wheel so hard she couldn’t feel her fingers anymore. Her heart was beating fast with anxiety and anticipation about something else entirely.

She caught her own gaze in the rear mirror. No amount of concealer, no glasses, no willpower would ever cover heavy bags under her eyes. 

She decided she had to close another loose end in Duskwood to do that. Once that idea came into her mind, she couldn’t forget about it. She felt the physical need to do so. Wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she didn't do that.  

Claire felt incredibly, wholeheartedly stupid to be there, but it was completely too late to back down.

The plan was simple and short enough, with a possibility of a lot of things going terribly.

She just had to move from the car. Walk a short distance. Enter Bar Aurora and see if Phil was there, alive and well. She couldn’t cry, or make a scene. Then, she had to go back to the car, then possibly to cry and try plan B, which would involve calling Jessy and asking her for a bed for the night. 

Plan B would be risky, because Claire really didn’t want to explain to Jessy why she was in the Duskwood a day before in the first place. 

“What would I even say to her?” She murmured into the emptiness of the car, but once spoken, words started to spill from her mouth without shame. “Hey Jessy, I came to Duskwood a day before to see if your brother is okay, because my poor heart misses him. He didn’t remember me or maybe simply hates me, so now I made it your problem that I don’t have anywhere to sleep…”

Still, she had to make sure Phil was alright. She hadn’t heard from him since the last call from prison, yet she had thought about him every day since then. Claire told herself it was okay he didn’t get into contact after release, that it was okay she even learned about it from Jessy after weeks of that happening. 

She couldn’t ask Jessy about his whereabouts. She wasn’t ready to share anything which happened between her and Phil.

She tried to tell herself that weeks of their late night conversations, when Phil was the only person making her feel like a woman, not a tool, were nothing. 

‘Tried to’ was doing a heavy lifting in her life lately.

Claire breathed in and out and opened the door to get out into the damp darkness of Duskwood streets. She sat in that car too long already; she was risking getting caught by someone.

Mentally, she was prepared as well as she could: she put on her favorite, dark clothes and covered herself from head to knees in her favorite flannel to blend into the background of Aurora Bar. Maybe her dark choker pressed on her neck a little bit too tight, but it grounded her somehow. The clothes were her armor, making her feel at least a little bit like in her element.

Duskwood was everything she had imagined. Chilled air carried the scent of rain and pine wood, and her heavy steps echoed in the empty streets. She knew the town by heart at this point; she studied the maps countless times, virtually walked between those buildings with Jessy; almost all the memories were bitter, but nostalgic. 

In the darkest times of her life, Claire had found her place in the world. 

Even with her small steps, Aurora came into view all too soon. The building was just as inconspicuous as she had imagined. Hesitantly, she put the hand on the old, brass handle. She heard music coming from inside the building, loud conversations and laughter. That grounded her, somehow. 

There was life in Duskwood. Nothing really changed for people there when her journey with finding Hannah had ended.

“Duskwood forgets fast”, Dan once said. She could believe it somehow.

Claire’s fingers trembled on the handle. What if Phil won’t be here? She thought, and it scared her even more than the alternative. Emptiness instead of hatred would be the end for her ego. 

She pressed on the handle with intent, and the beam of warm light spilled on the street. She almost suffocated with air when, with the door opening, almost all the eyes in the spacious room landed on her.

All but the look of a man behind the bar, the only one she really cared about.

The Aurora Bar was exactly how she imagined it to be from all the descriptions she had heard. It had few joined rooms, was crowded with tables and booths, but not suffocating. The crown jewel was a long, dark wooded bar, with red and yellow neon lights illuminating the walls. It was cozy, looked popular. Claire could imagine spending the evenings there most days. 

That evening, she stopped with her hand on the handle and awkward smile until everyone came back to interrupted conversations. 

Phil is here, her mind was screaming, when her fingers trembled even worse than before. She couldn’t stop staring at his tall figure, on the carefree smile he was casting on girls next to the bar when he prepared some drinks with grace. 

With dread mixed in awe Claire realised that Phil Hawkins was much more of a sight than she had ever imagined. She had only seen pictures, not the best quality on her old screen. He was taller than she thought, lean with muscles outlined by the white tee he was wearing. He was covered in tattoos, and when he moved, she noticed a silver nose ring shining in neon lamps. 

Phil held himself with such careless confidence Claire could do nothing more but to stare, her heart pumping blood like she had just run a marathon. 

The revelation that he was here, he was alive and happy, took her breath away in the most heartbreaking way Claire had ever experienced. She did what she was supposed to. He was completely okay. It was time for her to move and run towards her car. Preferably to cry, feeling the tears in her eyes already. 

But then, Phil looked up, and his amber eyes caught hers. 

He narrowed his eyes slightly. Stopped smiling at the others. Looked at her brazenly, searchingly, and so deeply, as if wanting to see right through her.

He doesn’t recognise me, she thought and it made her panic. The disappointment of that fact was far worse than if she would see the hatred in his beautiful eyes. 

She wanted to flee, and almost did, but then, something changed.

There was a ghost of recognition in how his brows furrowed. He still held her gaze. He rested his palms on the bar, as if waiting for her move, focused. 

Claire let go of the handle. She let herself slowly realise that the guy, now staring at her from across the room, was Phil. The same one who called her from prison. The one who flirted with her while the world burned around her. The one who made her feel important for the first time, as a woman, and not just as a voice on the phone solving a mystery.

She moved. Her heavy boots made too much noise in the serenity of the moment. He was monitoring her every move, as if trying to understand the connection his brain made first. 

With cheeks heating up, Claire leaned on the bar to steady herself. She had to tilt her head up; with only dark wood between them, she had to look up to look him in the eyes. 

His gaze was intimidating.

Not thinking much, she recited the words once used towards her.

"You told me once you'll hold the stool for me the next time I'll be in Duskwood."

Few things happened at once. Phil’s eyes widened and he took a step back, completely transfixed on her. He combed through his tied hair, as if forgetting they were already swept aside. Phil opened his mouth, but nothing came out of it for the longest moment of Claire’s life.

She couldn’t move, panicking inside. She didn’t have the slightest idea what he was thinking. Was he mad? Disappointed? 

“You have to be kidding me…” His voice was low, and so very doubtful.

She made a sound, something between a snort and a sob, and had to lean on the bar even more to keep herself from falling. 

“Holy shit, is that really you, Claire?” He added, just above a whisper. 

She felt the tears threatening to appear in her eyes. He was scanning her face, feelings so raw she had to look anywhere else.

“I guess I look worse in reality than the pictures?” She tried to joke, but it felt flat. 

Only after the words left her mouth did she realise her mistake. Phil saw her picture from a year before, with pale hair and sparks of life still visible in her eyes. He had all the right to feel lost. 

She probably was not the same Claire as she used to be.

He didn't take the bait, watching her closely with intensity she had never encountered before in anyone.

“I would say quite the opposite,” He retorted, and Claire didn’t even have a moment to digest his words. He moved and materialised next to her. Involuntarily, she took a step back, but he wasn’t looking at her. 

Phil patted the man sitting in the stool next to her, his barman bravado coming back with full force in a second.

“Bill, your time is up. Move to the boys and let the beauty here sit.” The man looked at Claire with surprise, as if he had not noticed anyone standing so close to him. “Should I repeat?”

“No, you’re the boss, Boss.” The man called Bill moved, grumbling under his breath. “Think about finding nicer men to hang out with, lady.” He added. 

“That’s another beer off your tab, Bill!” The moment the man was gone, Phil pushed the stool back, making Claire sit. 

Phil stayed next to her. When she looked up, his burning gaze met her halfway. After all that had happened, Claire had difficulty to realise it was really Phil. He was dangerously close, looking like maybe he actually didn’t hate her guts.

His hand moved, his long fingers halted mere millimetres from her face. They caught the loose strand of her dark hair, and with gentleness Claire would never suspect Phil of having, he put it behind her ear. She watched how his eyes fell from hers towards her lips. For a split second she was terrified he would touch her there.

Holy shit he is real, Claire’s brain finally caught up. She took a long breath, which was a huge mistake on her part. 

Her nostrils were filled with his scent: tobacco and heavy, intoxicating fragrance of expensive perfumes mixed in the heat of his skin. It made her head spin. He was too close. They were never supposed to be so close. 

Her plan lay in ruins under the bar stool.

She didn’t control her hand when her fingers caught his in a loose embrace. His skin was burning under her touch. Phil had to notice how hard she was shaking, because after a moment, just as nothing had happened, he moved back. 

Only after a moment did Claire notice the patrons coming to the bar for another set of drinks, filling the air with laughter. 

Claire sank with the bitter disappointment of a broken moment. Just like that, the spell was broken. Phil stepped back, putting his customer-service smile back on and she was left burning from the inside out. 

She was watching him work under her lashes. Phil was smooth, gallant and cocky. He worked with precision, smiled with intent, and joked as if his life depended on it. Every few moments, between mixing drinks and talking his way out of trouble, his heavy gaze would land on Claire and she would forget how to breathe again. 

Being so close, knowing how it was to be the centre of Phil Hawkins’ attention and losing it was the biggest torture she had ever encountered. 

After the first flock of patrons left, Phil appeared in front of her, filling a glass with violet drink, handing it to Claire with intensity of burning sun.

“On the house.” He said, being very conscious of their fingers being touched.

With the first sip, the perfect mixture of gin, mint and lavender syrup filled her tastebuds and she had to look elsewhere. One night, back then when they were spending nights chatting, Claire had hinted at her favorite drink. 

“You remembered.” She whispered. She felt bitterness in her words, as if feeling betrayed. If he cared about her enough to remember…

„Claire, If I'd known you'd come, I'd close the bar. I would even burn it if I had to.” 

Claire’s eyes shot straight towards him, lost and hurt. How could he say something so heart shattering as if it was nothing? 

But his eyes spoke another truth. They looked straight through her, drilling a hole in her head. The strange realization hit her just then, under those neon lights catching in the amber of Phil’s eyes.

He was the same. The same man she got lost in long hours of chatter with, when nothing in life made sense and everything was terrifying. He was the same man she opened her heart to, let him see everything under the shadow of night, and who left. 

Claire straightened up, feeling desperation filling her lungs. It was now or never to tell the truth.

“Nobody knows I am here today, Phil. I was supposed to come to Duskwood tomorrow, but I… I need to see you. See that you are alright. Even without me in your life.”

The truth between them made everything ten times scarier. 

Phil made a sharp move, setting the glass too hard on the bar, making the waitress on the other side of it flinch. 

He came closer to Claire until the only distance between them was the countertop. 

“You weren’t in my life, but not from my choice, Claire. You vanished into thin air. Maybe you weren't replying to my messages, but you were never out of my life, no matter how hard I tried to forget about you." 

She felt her head start spinning.

“What messages?” She heard herself saying. The shock was making her nauseous. “I have not heard from you since the prison call.”

With more force than it was needed, he pushed his phone towards her. It was opened on the last conversation they had.

“Read up.” Phil said, turning around to help another customer.

Claire looked at the phone in front of her, breathless. Phil had her saved under “Skeptical Claire ;)”, the inside joke making her throat tighten.

Under it, dozens of messages. "Hey, I'm out," "Claire, call me," "I'm worried," "I miss you, talk to me", all of them unread. She felt the panic growing inside her, completely cut out from anything happening around her.

She had never seen, nor received those messages. Panicked, she had tried to understand how that could happen, but in that state, nothing came out conclusive.

Her eyes filled with tears. She had to look the other way, desperately hoping Phil wouldn’t see that, squeezing his phone in her cold hand until her fingers hurt.

She was hyperventilating. Everything around her was too loud, her mind was filled with too many things she could hate about herself at that moment to do anything about it. 

Then, a pair of hands caught her arms above the countertop. Phil looked at her, eyes calm, all anger from before evaporated. His face was so close she could see how long his eyelashes were and a few small freckles at the top of his nose. 

It grounded her a little.

"Claire, listen to me carefully. We're not going to make a scene here, I know you hate it. But you're not staying here like this. There's a small passageway behind the bar to the office, it leads directly to the back entrance. Go there, take the second door on the left. Close it. I'll be there in two minutes, as soon as I clear the queue. Please wait there for me. Promise me."

She looked at him, stunned, but slowly nodded. He let go of her hands and she already missed the warmth. 

He looked at her again, as if waiting for something.

“I promise.” She whispered, getting up. 

Claire didn’t remember the short walk towards the room, but when she closed the door behind her, she finally took a huge breath. The noise was just a quiet hum outside. The panic faded, one moment after another. The tears stopped falling. 

Phil opened the door a few minutes later, and a fresh wave of anxiety rushed through her veins again. 

“I didn’t know, Phil. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t reply. With one smooth motion, he pulled Claire towards and embraced her with force.

Desperately, she hugged him back, burying her face in his shirt, breathing in the intoxicating scent. She was aware of everything happening: felt his face buried in her hair, his long fingers tightening around her flannel. She started to wonder if maybe they both missed each other just as much. 

Everything went silent after that. It was just them inside the small room.

Claire wanted to stay in Phil’s arms forever, in the quiet, where nobody else had entry to. He moved too fast, though, the questions still left unanswered, just like the messages on the phone Claire was still holding desperately in her hand.

Slowly, she pulled back, but he held her at arms length, fingers holding lightly to the material of her shirt. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, staring at his amber gaze as a terrifying realization began to take shape in her mind. 

“I swear, Phil. It wasn’t me. I have never seen those messages.” She started, hearing how pale her voice sounded after the marathon of tears. 

“So what happened? You saw the messages. They were sent.”

She thought for a moment, biting at her lip with intent. She noticed Phil’s eyes tracking the movement. 

“They… were sent…” she stammered, the pieces of the puzzle violently clicking together in her head. The code. The logs. The delayed messages from her friends in Duskwood only received weeks later. “Oh my God… It was Nymos!”

Phil blinked, lost. “Who the hell is Nymos?”

“It’s… not who. It was the program on my phone, which was supposed to keep me safe during the investigation. When all of that ended… When the FBI went after my IP, the system went into total lockdown. Later, when Nymos started recovering my data, Jake must have flagged your number. He marked it as a non-essential contact. Maybe a potential risk.”

Claire decided that if at any time in the future Jake would come back, she would definitely have few words for him.

„A risk?” Phil’s brow furrowed with unconcealed anger. “So your hacker friend decided for you that I didn't matter? That I was just... background noise?”

„I didn't see them, Phil! I swear to you, I have nothing to do with that…” She knew she sounded desperate for him to understand that. “I received a few delayed messages from the others weeks later, but yours... yours were completely filtered out.”

She felt the tears coming back, but swallowed them with intent. “I thought you forgot about me. I was sure… after getting out of prison, that you outgrew whatever… was between us.”

She didn’t look at him anymore, giving him back the phone and taking a step back.

“I need a fucking cigarette.” Phil muttered, letting her go. “You going?”

**

The cold, Duskwood air outside made Claire shiver.

She stood opposite to Phil, leaning against the brick wall of Aurora, like a few other patrons that night. The neon lights were reflecting on the puddles, and suddenly, everything became painfully real.

The cold was a needed distraction after words spoken in the office moments ago. She was still shocked, still painfully aware of the absolute unfairness of it all. Missed months, what ifs.

Phil hadn’t spoken a word. She watched him casually holding a lit cigarette between his long fingers, looking at other patrons. His features looked sharp in the dim light of a back alley and he seemed lost in thought. 

For Claire, Phil looked like the figment of her imagination, perfect and so out of reach she wanted to run towards her car and never come back. 

“You’re staring, darling.”

She felt her cheeks burning, wrapping herself in the comfort of her flannel.

“And whose fault is that?” She retorted, her lower lip trembling just a fraction. 

The sound of his laughter spread throughout the now empty alley. With the tightness in her throat Claire had thought she could listen to this sound forever. 

He dropped the cigarette butt, crushing it beneath his heavy boot without taking his eyes off her. Before she could even shift her weight toward the parking lot, Phil closed the distance between them. His hand moved; not hesitant like before, but with a quiet, terrifying certainty. His long fingers slipped right under the heavy fabric of her flannel, his palm hot against the barely clothed skin of her waist, gripping her hip just tightly enough to anchor her in place. 

She looked up again, feeling so incredibly small. 

“Don’t you dare even look towards that parking lot.” He murmured right into her personal space. „When my shift ends, you’re coming with me. Until then, you have two choices. You can either sit at the bar, drink for free, and distract the hell out of me while I work... or you can go back to my office and wait for me there. What’s it gonna be, darling?” 

Call me darling one more time and I’m going to cry, Claire had thought, but didn’t say it aloud. The reality of that being the only night she could spend with him hit her just then, making her clench her jaw hard.

“If I have only one night with you, Phil… I chose the bar.”

His laughter died down on his lip suddenly. His features hardened, a shadow of something dark and fiercely possessive crossing his face before his hand tightened on her hip so she could feel the mark of all five fingers burning. He took a deep breath, moving his face closer to hers. 

The fingers let go, but his hand didn’t. She felt his clever fingers touching her ribs, moving higher towards her pulse point.

“The bar it is, then. Do your worst, Claire.” 

**

Claire didn’t hide her gaze anymore.

She watched Phil pouring drinks, laughing with patrons, being in his element, a mix of pride and effortless charm. Everyone could see he cared about his bar, about the people he worked with and the customers he served. She sat comfortably, sipping her perfectly mixed drink, her eyes gliding along Phil’s strong, tattooed hands, the arch of his smile, the tension of his muscles. 

There was sadness under all of her thoughts, barely kept anxiety brewing under her skin. Claire just got Phil back. She got reminded how much she liked him, even with only their night conversations and sparse phone calls. It was different, out in the open. Real. 

Addictive.

How was she supposed to let it go after that night? 

With clarity strange for her at that hour and after that much alcohol she came to the realisation she was in love with Phil and there was nothing she could, or wanted to do about it. She remembered his past, she was a part of it, but it didn’t change the flutter of her heart, or the want to touch, and claim, and have.

One night, she thought, smiling at him from under the rim of her glass. One night to learn what I was missing.

As the hours passed, Claire made sure Phil saw the exact amount of attention she paid him. Her eyes never left him, her smiles were always ready to be sent towards him. She allowed herself to obsessively watch his hands working, learning all the shapes the visible tattoos on his skin had.

Phil caught her more than once staring at his throat and the ink there. She wanted to touch with an intensity unknown to her. Every time he swallowed, her fingers itched to learn how that would feel under her fingertips.

After the third drink, the room around her got very warm. She removed her flannel, throwing it on the back of her stool, leaving only her sleeveless shirt up. The burning look Phil sent towards her after that was enough to make her blush. She held his eyes anyway, just to make sure he noticed her intent.

After a moment, to her surprise, Claire noticed someone leaning on the bar next to her. Caught completely off guard, she raised her brow. The man smelled of cheap beer and looked at her with a lopsided smile.

“Hey cutie, are you here alone? Can I buy you something better than that girly drink?” He spoke, but she couldn’t even open her mouth before the tall statue appeared in front of them. 

“You’re talking to my woman. Move. Now.” Phil said coldly.

She wasn’t sure who was more surprised, the man who almost ran towards his friends, or Claire. 

“Are you okay, darling?” He murmured, his eyes angry. She hoped her smile didn’t waver, when her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. My woman. He definitely didn’t mean that, she tried to remind herself. Not hoping for anything. 

It didn’t stop her from raising her hand and brushing away the lost lock of his hair from his face. 

“I am perfect, thanks.” She smiled with that, playfully moving her finger along his ear.

“That you are. Stay here.”

Claire measured the time with the amount of people leaving the bar. Around 2am it was barely anyone, and she felt a mixture of excitement and sadness. The only lights left were side lamps, throwing warm light on the deserted spaces.

The night would end soon. She was not prepared.

Phil emerged from the other side of the bar, pushing two very intricate glasses in front of her in perfect line. She raised her brow with a smile. 

He reached for a bottle of dark liquor and poured it in a slow, smooth motion. 

“Should you drink at work?” Claire joked. The drink smelled like chilli, honey and danger.

He raised his glass, clinked it gently against hers, and said in that low, smoke-stained voice of his:

"Fortunately, nobody would tell my boss… oh, well. This one’s for tonight. A special blend. Just like you; looks innocent, but dangerous as hell." 

The dark substance burned her throat in the most delicious way. She watched his smug smile when she swallowed. 

A simple drop flowed down her lips. She wanted to catch it with her tongue, but Phil was faster.

His warm hand traveled up, fingers gripping her chin with a quiet, undeniable authority that made her breath hitch.

Then, his thumb, the one with the dark tattoo fading into his wrist, pressed down against her lip. He brushed the drop away, his skin rough against hers, smelling faintly of tobacco and expensive bourbon.

As if in trance, she moved before anything else could happen. With her eyes never leaving his, Claire held his wrist in her cold fingers and licked the remaining liquid from Phil’s thumb.

His eyes caught fire. He swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a rough, dangerous growl that was barely a whisper.

“Five minutes, Claire. I’m locking the front door, turning off the lights, and then you are going to tell me exactly what Nymos and your hacker friend deprived me of for all these months.”

She was left with her mind screaming. Phil did something to her; something dangerous, making Claire not recognise herself. 

Every introverted instinct she possessed screamed at her to grab her flannel shirt, sprint out of the backdoor, and drive until she hit the highway. But as the heavy click of the front door lock echoed through the empty room, followed by the soft hum of the main lights dying one by one, Claire realized she couldn't move.

She was in too deep. The trap had closed, and for the first time in her life, she didn't want to escape. 

**

Phil's hands burned her freezing skin again when he intertwined their fingers together and gently dragged her towards the backroom stairs. After all that had happened during the night, Claire was positive she could never prepare for whatever would happen next.

The silence was deafening. The only sounds were their steps on the old, wooden stairs and her shallow breaths. Inside, she was panicking like never before. Outside, she was just tired.

Phil let go of her hand only to open the door to his apartment on the first floor of Aurora. Setting the first step into the dark rooms was the most terrifying moment of her life since the burning of a mine mere months before.

The apartment looked surprisingly similar to what Claire had envisioned during all those long nights chatting with Phil. It was almost bare, with dark, wooden floorboards and even darker furniture. The only light coming from outside were the red and yellow neon signs of Aurora, and for a moment, Claire felt like she was in a movie. The air was cold inside, soaked in the heavy cider scent of his cologne and a hint of vanilla, making her heart squeeze.

She wondered if Jessy ever came here to visit her brother. If his friends came over to drink and complain about life. How much did those walls see before she crossed the threshold? How much more would they see after she left?

Phil wasn't speaking, he wasn't even moving, standing near the door, but she felt his eyes on her constantly. There was no heat in them anymore. Just pure intensity.

Claire moved towards the small living room area, touching the back of a dark sofa with shaky fingers. There was a heavy-looking, crystal ashtray on the side table, half-filled. She couldn't smell the burn of a cigarette, but after a short moment, her eyes caught another thing and the thought got lost in a new wave of emotions.

There was a book laying on the heavy, dark table. She picked it up with her shaky fingers, something heavy caught in her throat. It was her favorite thriller book. It was open somewhere around the middle, a corner marked with a small fold. The book was visibly used, in a way of countless fingers leaving its mark on the pages.

Did Phil read it in prison? Did he buy it after release? She had so many questions, but asked none.

Unbelievably, she turned around to look at him; the surprise had to be seen on her features, but his gaze never changed.

“You laughed when I told you about this! You said you don’t read.”

Phil shrugged, completely unmoved.

“I had to check if the guy was really like me. He's too dramatic for my taste, though. I don't know what you were seeing in him.”

She had to squeeze her hand and dig the fingernails into the soft skin of her palm so as not to burst into tearful laughter.

She turned around again. It mattered to her more than any of his long looks or not-so-subtle touches. He didn’t know Claire would be here tonight. He didn’t know, but he had the book she was rambling to him about. In her head, there were only two possibilities. Either he was bored enough to check what she was talking about, or… or maybe he missed Claire during those months and it was something to remember her by.

She sighed loudly, putting the book back in its place.

“He is exactly like you, Phil, and you know it… Now, when I saw you at work, I’m even more convinced about it.” She couldn’t fight the sad smile playing on her lips. “He is my favorite character for a reason…” she added, her words just above a whisper. It sounded way sadder than she hoped.

She heard his heavy footsteps first, then the touch that turned her around. Phil cornered her, pressing his body forward until her hips hit the wood. He rested both hands on the table, dangerously close to her thighs, trapping her completely.

There was nowhere to run from his burning attention and heavy fragrance. Phil didn't just look at her; his jaw clenched so hard the muscle pulsed.

“Why does it sound like a goodbye, Claire? Tell me, what do you mean?” Phil didn't ask, he demanded.

Claire didn’t want to tell him anything, mostly the truth. 

That nothing between them was ever casual for her. That the heartbreak was inevitable.

Searching for leverage, she involuntarily put her palms on his hands.

She looked everywhere but on him.

“Claire, tell me exactly what you meant before, when you said you can have me only for one night.”

She was silent for a second, her shoulders shaking. It was a torture, being forced to speak her mind clearly after months of silence, so close to someone she couldn't have.

When she spoke, her voice was quiet, just above a whisper, filled with overpowering hopelessness.

“What do you want me to say, Phil? That when I came here today I didn't even know if you’d want to speak to me?” Her voice broke suddenly. “I didn't come here to trap you, or demand anything from you… I came to Duskwood today just to see if you were okay. To check if you were real.”

Her fingers squeezed his, filled with desperation.

“I’m not greedy…” She added, feeling tears in her eyes. “You gave me your attention tonight. Jesus, you called me yours, you don’t even know what it did… You brought me here. For someone like me…” She had to swallow hard not to break out entirely. “That is already more than I ever dared to dream of. I would take whatever you’re willing to give me, Phil. If it’s just this one night. I’ll take it and I'll be grateful.”

He moved back in shock and she immediately missed the warmth of his body. Ashamed, she immediately regretted her words. Desperation filled her as she took a shaky breath and tried to move.

Phil's warm hands gripped her face almost brutally by the jaw, long fingers digging into her skin. He forced her head up. Claire couldn’t look away, having no choice but to gaze straight into his blazing, amber eyes. 

The intensity of the gesture somewhat grounded her.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Claire. You should demand everything from me, and you would get it, just name your price,” he said through clenched teeth, his fingers gripping her cheeks a little tighter. He was beautiful in that anger. “I can give you... the best night of your goddamn life, anything you need.”

She took a long breath through her nose, watching him with numbness. The words he was saying weren't completely accepted by her brain.

„You wanted to check if I’m real?” Phil repeated, his voice suddenly dropping to a dangerously raw, broken whisper. His thumbs dug deeper into her skin, forcing her to feel the tremor in his hands. „I spent months trapped in that fucking prison, and then in this empty room, looking at a blank screen. That bastard hacker and his goddamn program didn't just lock me out, Claire. They erased you. They made me feel like you were the one who wasn't real. Like I imagined every single word you ever wrote to me.”

He leaned in even closer, his teeth bared, breath hot and ragged against her lips.

„They stole months from us. No, fuck that- they took you away from me. You were my only fucking reason to survive in the cell, Claire. The only memory keeping me sane. And now you dare to walk into my house, look at me with those doe eyes, and tell me you’ll settle for one goddamn night? Not after what they fucking stole from me. Not a chance. Because if you're asking what I am willing to give…”

He trailed off, his breath heavy, as if the unsaid words were choking him. Claire didn’t expect him to be careful, and she was glad he wasn't. She had difficulty working through his words, with his heavy, unwavering gaze burning her insides. She could feel his fury, but underneath it, she was suddenly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of what she felt... and what had just been spoken.

“So I'll ask for the last time, Claire. Don't lie to me. What do you want from me?” 

Claire spoke before thinking.

"Give me that best night of my goddamn life, Phil..." She demanded, and looked at how his eyes were fading. She didn't allow him to move- her hand shot up, catching his wrist before he could withdraw even a centimeter. Her fingers dug through his delicate skin covered with tattoos. She felt a surge of electricity, unknown to her with the intensity. "Then demand the same back from me. Make me yours, so there is no other option for me but to stay. Push me to the point when I would never think about leaving you, that when I'll have to go back to my old life, you demand me back in your space immediately when I finish closing that chapter. No half-measures, Phil. I am not taking anything less." 

Claire’s chest was moving heavily, the reality of what she had just said hitting both of them at the same moment. She just spitted out the dark truth which were choking her since their first conversation. 

There was no amber in Phil's eyes anymore; they were consumed with hunger she had never seen before, and would never be prepared to see directed at her. She tugged on his wrist, movement delicate, but with intent, as if she tried to say without words “now or never”.

Claire watched how the entire control he tried to maintain through gritted teeth crumbled to dust. He almost collapsed onto her, his entire weight pressing her back against the heavy oak countertop. 

For a split second they looked at each other, and then Phil crushed their lips together.

It wasn’t a gentle, cinematic kiss. It was possessive, predatory, one that she’d just given him official permission for. 

His lips were burning her, harsh and brazen. He pressed into Claire’s mouth with such force, as if he wanted to make her forget all the fear and uncertainty she'd been harboring for months. Claire could taste the liquor and tobacco on his tongue, opening her mouth for him to feel more of that ruthless dominance.

His fingers loosened on her chin, moving higher, waving through her messy hair and tugging hard, tilting her head to get a better access to her mouth. She let him, basking in the glorious heat of his heavy body pushing harder onto her. Her hands wandered towards his hips, anchoring herself with fingernails into the heavy material of his jeans. 

Claire felt the curve of Phil’s lips on hers, felt how his fingers tightened in her hair. It was too much for her to handle. She felt her hips pushing forward, hearing her own breathless moan drowning in his mouth. 

Phil hissed, his hand sliding from the oak table, straight to her thigh. When his heated skin touched her cool flesh, he wasn’t gentle - he simply tightened his fingers on it, almost digging into it, then began to stroke upward, greedily, possessively, as if to test whether she belonged entirely to him.

His warm hands felt glorious on her naked body, making her moan even louder. He swallowed it whole, moving his skilled hands even higher, pushing dangerously close to the hem of her shorts.

Claire felt the earth beneath her disappear at his touch. In a frenzy, without thinking clearly, her hands on his hips changed their direction. She pulled him down on her, wanting to crush the tiny space left. She wanted to feel his weight on her fully, wanted to be pressed into that table so tightly that there's no longer beginning and end.

There was a loud thud somewhere close, their bodies reacting faster than their brains, making them move away from each other. The only sound left was their loud, ragged breathing. 

Claire looked at Phil, still holding into his tights as on the lifeline, and in that dim neon light he looked glorious. 

She couldn’t believe it was her who pushed him to the brink of insanity. She couldn’t stop moving her gaze from his disheveled hair to glistening, red-bitten lips and eyes so hungry and unbelieving, she wanted to run the same moment as just stay there forever.

There was no coming back from that place, she knew. Her life would never look the same after that night. 

Phil looked drunk, breathing heavily into her. When he spoke, his lips grazed hers, and his eyes were completely focused on her mouth.

“This is the last second to back down from it, Claire. Last possible moment to run until I will make you mine and never let go.”

She breathed out, the words setting another shockwave through her body. In that dim, red light, still spread on the table, Claire’s hands moved on their own, ending on his neck, her fingertips grazing his jaw with too much tenderness for that moment.

“There was no backing down for me since I crossed the threshold of Aurora, Phil.” 

** 

Phil moved back slowly, looking at the reason for their break. The glass with remains of liquor lay on the floor, but he just moved it carelessly with the tip of his boot.

Claire couldn't care less about the damage; her body felt cold and empty without the heavy pressure of Phil on her. She could pinpoint exact parts of her thighs and back where her naked skin was touching the wood, but her mind was completely distracted by the hands still leaning on the table, on both sides of her body.

Only looking at those clever, calloused hands sent a shockwave of want through her veins.

She couldn't stop staring at the dark lines of tattoos standing out from the paleness of his skin. In the bleeding red tones of the neon lights, with his ruffled hair and bruised lips Phil looked as if he had been pulled straight out of Claire’s countless dreams.

She couldn't believe the real him was even more overwhelming and addictive than she had ever imagined during their conversations through messages. 

Her fingers itched to touch him again, but she forced herself to stay still, to wait for his move. 

The wait was torture, and Phil didn’t try to make it easier for her. He was hovering over her body, staring, but he was very particular about not touching, as if trying to teach her patience. 

Everything about that scene screamed proficiency for Claire, and that thought, once it appeared, made her cold all over. 

Phil had to have done this before. Had to make someone else lose their mind with only a gaze and his touch. He was popular, she didn’t have to be a regular at Aurora to know it. 

The thoughts didn’t let her rest. How many girls had been in this exact same spot, begging for him to give them anything, at least for a night? How many of them had he practiced on since they had started talking those months ago? 

Those questions made her feel inadequate; especially after meeting Phil, she got reclusive, even more than before. She preferred the safety of her house, the company of virtual friends in the other part of the country. But she did remember times when Phil didn’t reply to her for hours, or came to chat only at sunrise. Was he busy with someone else then? When Claire’s days were filled with longing for him? 

Upset at her own thoughts, she had to turn her head and look anywhere else. Phil noticed, of course. He didn’t let her hide. 

When the touch came, it was demanding. Both of his hands forced her face to look straight at him. 

“Where are you, Claire? The hell you weren't with me in this room.” 

She tried very hard to avoid his eyes, but he didn’t allow her. 

“Tell me what you're beating yourself up about inside of that brilliant brain of yours.” 

Claire couldn’t, feeling ashamed. It was not her place to be jealous, not her place to… 

“Claire. Speak.” His voice was intense and demanding. The fingers on her face clenched, the heaviness of his body coming back with full force. “Now.” 

The frustration spilled out from her with every word. 

“Why are you torturing me like that? Do you really want to know what’s on my mind?” She sounded too mad, even for her own liking. “I know who you are, and I know I’m nothing special. You had women before me, and that's fine, it’s your right. But lying here... it just stings. I hate myself for wishing I was the only one, for imagining you’d just wait for me for months, when I'm probably just another name on a long list of girls who sat on this table."

Phil snorted, the sound harsh and hitting Claire straight in her already fast-beating heart. His already spread fingers dug deeper into her hair, moving her face even closer, their lips almost touching. 

“I see I am not doing my best job if you’re still able to think such idiotic thoughts… Listen to me very carefully, Claire, because for someone so smart, sometimes you…” He trailed off suddenly. He spoke the next words straight into her mouth, slow and deliberate. “You want to know how many girls I had here, lying under me, on that table?” His lip brushed hers. “One. You. And I intend to leave it like that.” 

The words hung between them for a second, when it finally occurred to Claire that maybe he was making an exception for her. The thought left her breathless, and she moved, trying to touch his face and bring him closer. 

“Not now, darling.” In a split second, Phil caught both of her wrists. He didn't slam them down; he just pressed them firmly against the wooden table, pinning them on either side of her head. He leaned his full weight into her, his chest crushing her breasts, completely immobilizing her. "I told you to stop playing games," he growled softly against her skin, his breath burning her collarbone. "Now you have to learn what being the only one allowed under me entails.” 

The words spoken in a deep, husky voice made Claire hyper-aware of the situation. Phil let go of one of her wrists, but she didn’t move. When she tried to focus on the glorious feeling of his lips so close to her neck, his burning hand found its way towards her exposed, cold stomach under her shirt. She arched her back, trying to hide from the thermal shock, but he pressed her skin with force, gliding the calloused fingertips higher, under her bra.

The hand moved lower, finding its place on the hem of her shorts, sliding deeper under the harsh material. She gasped loudly, trying to hold still, but then Phil’s teeth started to graze the delicate spot of her pulse point. He pressed his lips to the spot, making her squirm, her eyes closing, trying to focus and make herself still.

“Mhm… make those noises for me, darling.” He whispered into her ear, making sure to bite on her earlobe lightly. “You’re a natural.”

His hand didn’t stop, sliding past the hem of her underwear, his rough palm finally meeting the bare, sensitive skin of her inner thigh. The friction of his calluses against her soft skin, combined with his teeth still grazing her neck, was too much. 

A broken, breathless cry escaped her lips. “Phil…”

He paused, his mouth resting right against her pulse point, hot breath vibrating against her skin. 

“What is it, darling?” he murmured, his fingers shifting just a fraction of an inch higher on her thigh, deliberately teasing her. “Tell me.”

Claire swallowed hard, her free hand trembling where it lay flat on the wood, desperately wanting to reach up.

“Can I…” She choked on her own breath, her eyes locking onto his dark, heavy gaze. She knew she played right into his power play fantasy, but was too far gone to feel ashamed. “Can I touch you?”

Phil’s dark eyes flashed with something dangerous and deeply satisfied. He slowly let go of her other wrist, but he didn't move away. Instead, he leaned down even lower, his lips almost brushing her ear.

“Show me where you want to touch me, Claire,” he whispered, his voice dangerously low, a soft threat vibrating in his chest. “But do it slowly. If you rush, I’m pinning your hands back to the table.”

Her free hand was trembling, but she didn't hesitate. Ignoring his warning, or maybe driven mad by it, Claire brought her hand up, her fingers finally combing into his ruffled, dark hair. She wanted to let them loose, wanted to feel them on her skin, but wasn’t ready to risk that much. 

The strands were soft, contrasting perfectly with the rough calluses of his hands. She clenched her fist slightly, and pulled with all the strength she had left, desperate to bring his lips back to hers.

Claire moaned straight into his mouth when they collided, but Phil didn’t let her lead even for a moment. His tongue pushed inside, hot and possessive. It wasn’t chaste; it was deliberate and ruthless. He bit her lower lip harshly, forcing another heavy gasp from her. Her hand in his hair tightened, and her hips moved forward, needing more friction. He pushed one of his knees between her thighs, giving her the illusion of a release.

She couldn’t stand it anymore; she lifted her other hand from the table and finally allowed herself to touch his back under his white shirt, scraping her fingernails lightly across his warm skin.

Phil made a low sound into her mouth, which went straight towards her lower abdomen. He broke the kiss, his lips glistening in the dim glow of neon lights.

“You like it, don’t you?” He murmured. Looking straight into his eyes, Claire dragged her fingernails again, watching his nostrils flare with burning want.

“I should ask you that question.” She replied and almost didn’t recognise her own voice with how low it sounded. His hand on her hip tightened suddenly and he moved from her space, with one, fluid motion tugging on his shirt and pulling it over his head.

Claire gasped, rising on her elbows, taking in the sight of Phil without his shirt on. She could see the tattoo work on full display, dark ink lines moving with every shift of his lean muscles.

She was mesmerised, and her fingertips tingled with want.

“Time for looking will be later. Now, if you want to touch me, Claire, do it properly.” Phil added, grabbing her by the hips and shifting her to the edge of a table. She immediately embraced his broad shoulders, her cold hands on his burning skin making them both tremble.

Phil’s mouth immediately found its way towards her collarbone, moving her bra strap to kiss along her shoulder. His hands pulled her a little closer, making her wrap her legs around his hips.

Even with the material of their pants between them, Claire could feel his hard length. The thought of her presence making him hard caused her to gasp loudly, a sound Phil caught with his mouth.

She almost didn’t realise what he was doing until Phil broke the kiss and, without a word, slid her already unbuttoned shorts down. Carefully, he took off her shoes, kissing the line of her thighs in the process.

“Mhm… much better,” he commented. She could see him gazing at her already wet panties.

Anything that was coming out of her mouth at this point was just broken sobs. He didn’t wait for her to start feeling shame; Phil came back close, letting her bury her heated face in the crook of his neck.

His hand, warm and rough, rested directly between her thighs. He took his time, pressing slowly, massaging her through the cotton, perfectly sensing how wet and heated Claire already was. She was squirming, making half-sounds, squeezing his neck with pleasure, completely enveloped in his warmth and the heavy scent of his perfume.

“Phil… please…” Claire tried to create a coherent sentence, but the moment her mouth moved, glued to the skin of his neck, his fingers crossed the material and, without a word of warning, entered her with one smooth motion.

He kissed her hard to muffle her screams when he moved inside her with purpose. He knew exactly how to bend his fingers, how to massage her to make her lose her mind.

Her own fingers found their way into his hair, tugging hard when the waves of pleasure made her entire body twitch.

Claire came on top of that table with Phil’s name on her lips. She felt his dark, possessive gaze on her throughout the entire show.

The aftermath left her breathless and bone-tired. Phil didn’t pull away immediately, making sure to be an anchor, kissing her hair lightly when she rested, trying to catch her breath.

When his hand finally slid out from under her panties, it didn't leave her skin. Instead, his rough palm rested flat against her thigh, his thumb brushing soothing circles over her finally heated skin.

“Claire?” he murmured, his voice no longer demanding, but low and thick with genuine concern. He caught her chin with one of his hands after a moment. “Look at me, darling.”

She tried to focus her eyes, her vision slightly blurred by tears of sheer sensory overload.

Phil searched her face, his dark eyes scanning every inch of her features, making sure she was grounded. When he was satisfied, he smiled, the move surprisingly soft after what had just happened between them.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, a rare tenderness cutting through his usual rough edges. "I didn't break you, did I?"

She had to blink away some misplaced tears. Her hands, now hanging around his neck, brought him closer. She caressed his hair lightly for a moment, basking in the attention he was giving her.

“No, Phil,” Claire replied simply, receiving a soft, warm kiss as a reward.

“Up we go, then,” he replied, lifting her up from the table, not worrying about any piece of clothing she had left on the floor. She let him handle her, hiding her face in his neck, her mind still screaming about the fact she had no idea how any of that could have happened.

*

Phil carried her to the bedroom as if she weighed nothing. Just as they crossed the threshold, Claire felt her heart squeezing, knowing she had just entered the most personal space she could have the honor to see.

​The room was enveloped in dark shades, illuminated only by the light from the street lamps filtering through the half-covered window. Phil lowered her onto the soft mattress and she sank into the dark sheets.

​Her body immediately reacted to the heavy scent of expensive cologne, cedarwood and Phil's clean skin, which had already become her favorite mixture in the world. There was that unique hint of vanilla again, and with a small smile, Claire noticed a candle standing near the bed.

​She had a moment to take in the raw beauty of the space: exposed brick walls, the countless vinyl records Phil never shut up about, dark furniture, and neatly framed band posters. There was his favorite leather jacket draped over the bed frame. All of that made the space raw and incredibly Phil.

​Claire didn't have the time to admire the room for too long. His heavy body climbed over her, and that, mixed with the softness of the mattress, made her focus right back on the more important task at hand: touching and admiring Phil.

​He didn't waste any time.

​“You won't need that anymore, darling,” he murmured, his warm hand tugging at the hem of her shirt.

​She helped by raising her hands up. Phil pushed the material of both her shirt and bra out of the way, throwing them somewhere in the darkness of the room.

​Just like that, Phil froze.

​His warm hands rested on her ribcage, his thumbs stroking the soft skin, but his gaze was elsewhere. In the dim, filtered light of the street lamps, his dark eyes roamed over her bare body, taking in every curve, every shadow, every inch of her skin.

​The chill of his room sent cold shivers down her naked body, and Claire felt a sudden spark of vulnerability, an urge to cross her arms over her chest. Before she could shift, Phil’s gaze locked onto her eyes. The raw, burning adoration in his look made her freeze. He wasn't just looking; he was worshipping her with his eyes.

​He leaned down, his chest brushing against hers, his voice dropping into a rough, low growl near her lips.

​“I knew you'd be perfect, Claire, but fuck… You've ruined me for anyone else.”

That declaration, spoken with such intensity, made all the difference. Claire's breath hitched, her eyes shining with unfiltered appreciation. She moved her hand towards Phil's face, caressing his jaw and lips, her gaze heavy on his pulse point.

​“Be fair, Phil,” she whispered, receiving a prolonged kiss inside the palm of her hand. “You've said no more barriers.”

​Her other hand tugged impatiently at the button of his pants. The movement made Phil grin dangerously.

​“Greedy, aren't we?” he commented, already moving. She watched with unhidden passion how he tossed the remaining parts of his clothing somewhere on the floor, coming back for her.

​The final touch of their naked bodies sent strong shivers down her body. She openly admired his lean frame, the long lines of dark tattoos spreading all over his body, so mysterious in the dim light of the streetlight. She hadn't seen half of them before, paying more attention to the one on his thighs, relishing in the movement of his muscles wherever she touched them.

​If she could, she would spend the entire night just tracing the lines, learning how his body reacted to her chilly touches.

​When Claire looked up, she met a gaze so intense and hungry, she involuntarily clenched her fingers on Phil's thighs.

​“You can't get enough of me, hm?” he murmured, moving her up by the arms and crushing their lips together.

​“I will never have enough,” she replied honestly into his mouth, straddling his lap.

The anticipation of what was to come made Claire tense all over her body. Phil's hands were wandering, teasing, his mouth nipping at her already overstimulated neck. As he promised, he took his time, and took no prisoners, playing her body as if they had done that countless times before.

​Holding her by the hips, Phil shifted her slightly, his hands anchoring her in place. She understood immediately what was going to happen, taking a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. Her heart was hammering in her chest with an excitement she couldn't explain.

​The unyielding heat of him was pressed directly against her center, and Claire’s breath hitched at the sheer, agonizing proximity. She had seen it; she knew it would fill her whole.

​“Now, Claire, look at me,” he commanded, his voice a gravelly whisper in the dark.

​She forced her eyes open, meeting his burning, possessive gaze. And then, without another word, Phil guided her down, entering her in one slow, deep, and inevitable motion.

​A gasping cry tore from Claire’s throat, her fingers instantly digging into the hard muscles of his broad shoulders. The feeling of him completely filling her was overwhelming, a wave of intense heat that made her entire body tremble.

​Phil let out a low, ragged groan into her hair, his forehead resting against hers for a second as they both adjusted to the intoxicating tight fit. He made her look, seeing his burning eyes filled with so much satisfaction she could do nothing more but gasp, bury her face in the crook of his neck, allowing him to set his own pace, moving her hips however he liked.

​Claire couldn't focus anyway. His pace was calculated to take her over the brink of insanity, his movements fast and possessive. With such close proximity, she could hear his low growls almost inside her body, the muscles she desperately clung to flexing. She knew she wasn't quiet, either; every time she made a sound, Phil's hands tightened on her thighs that much more.

​Claire could see he loved what he was doing to her.

​Not slowing down, Phil forced her to look, joining their mouths with a bruising kiss. She felt the anticipation almost killing her, being absolutely possessed by every part of him. He moved her head again with force, revealing her neck, which had definitely become his favorite spot on her body. Still forcing her to look, keeping his pace, he bit her shoulder, the movement intense and purposeful.

​Phil was claiming her, and she took it with pride and immense delight, screaming with pleasure.

The intense bite, combined with the relentless, punishing rhythm of his hips, finally broke her. Throughout the entire night, with all the touching and their locked gazes, he had made sure it wouldn't take long.

​Claire felt the waves of the storm gathering inside her, a coil of pure fire tightening until it was impossible to breathe.

​With the last part of her mind intact, she decided to make it all worth it. She pushed her hand towards his hair again, forcing him to look up when she was losing it, watching how the fascination on his face only grew.

​“Phil…!” her voice broke into a desperate cry, her head falling back against the dark sheets as the first wave of her climax hit her like a physical blow. Her inner muscles clamped down around him, pulsing in a tight, helpless rhythm.

​That was the exact moment Phil’s control shattered into pieces. He let out a low, satisfied growl, driving the pace to an almost deadly speed.

​Hearing his name on her lips and feeling her body squeeze him with such raw pleasure drove him over the edge. With a low, primal growl that vibrated directly against her skin, Phil delivered a few more deep, heavy thrusts, driving himself into her as far as he could go. He locked his arms around her waist, pinning her to his frame as his own release tore through him, hot and blindingly intense.

​He claimed her completely, leaving nothing left of his pride; just two people burning down with a shared absolution.

**

The pale light of dawn was filtering through the half-covered window, signaling that the night was officially over. Reality was creeping back into the room, cold and unyielding.

Claire lay tangled in his dark sheets, her heart racing not from pleasure, but from a sudden, suffocating wave of panic. She didn’t want to sleep; didn’t want to close her eyes even for a second, in case the morning would come with a reality which wasn’t this.

In a few hours, she had to leave this room. She had to face Jessy, face Hannah, face whatever their peculiar group of friends would come up with. 

She had to face the unknown of whatever this was between them. What if daylight changed everything we built during those past hours?

Terrified of the silence, terrified of him pulling away, Claire involuntarily moved closer. Before Phil could even fully open his eyes, she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. It was a bruising, desperate kiss. She clung to him with intensity, demanding his presence, trying to lose herself in him one more time before the world demanded her return. She didn't want him to move, didn't want him to breathe without her.

Phil responded immediately, without question, his hands automatically finding her waist, but within seconds, his movements slowed. He felt the frantic beat of her pulse against his throat. He felt the tension in how her hands locked in his hair, almost painfully. He pulled back just an inch, his amber, worried eyes searching her pale face in the morning light.

"Claire," he murmured, his thumb rubbing roughly over her lower lip. "Stop."

The word hit her like a cold splash of reality. Claire instantly froze, her breath catching in her throat. Instead of answering, instead of letting him see the sheer terror in her eyes, she looked away. She couldn't look into those curious eyes; not when she felt so incredibly exposed.

She let her gaze drop, focusing instead on his pale hand resting against the dark sheets. In the unfiltered morning light, she could see every detail: the roughness of his palm, the dark ink of the tattoos wrapping around his fingers and wrist.

With a heavy heart, Claire began to map him. She traced the lines of his broad shoulders with her eyes, the quiet rise and fall of his chest, trying to burn every single detail into her memory. She wanted to remember the exact shade of his skin in the dawn, the heavy scent of him, which would forever remind her of safety. It felt like she was memorizing a beautiful dream before the alarm clock forced her to wake up. In a few hours, the real world would scream for her attention, and Claire was simply terrified they would vanish in it.

Phil didn't say a word for a long moment, just watching her. Before she could get lost entirely, his warm, rough hand slid under her chin, his fingers hooking gently but firmly around her jaw. He tilted her face up, forcing her to look right into his golden, piercing eyes.

"Look at me," he commanded softly, his brow furrowing as he scanned her face. "You're doing it again. Where did you just go?"

Claire swallowed hard, still not looking into his eyes. There were those fascinating, pale freckles on his nose again; she wanted to kiss them, to see if they’d vanish, just as the night would in a short moment. "Nowhere," she forced, her voice tight. "I'm just... thinking."

Phil’s eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't drop his hand from her chin. Instead, his thumb caressed her jawline, a quiet reminder that he wasn't going anywhere, but he wasn't letting her off the hook either.

"Don't lie to me, Claire. Not now. Not after what we had promised each other," he murmured, his face so close she could feel the warm puff of his breath. "Talk to me."

Claire couldn’t lie to him; she had learned it the hard way last night, especially not when he asked her so nicely. She took a shaky, uneven breath, her fingers instinctively clenching against his bare chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. She looked right into his dark eyes, letting him see the fear she had been hiding.

"I'm just trying to figure out how it is going to be, Phil," she confessed, the words spilling out before she could stop them. Her voice was barely a whisper, thick with unexpressed emotion. "After this… After we step through that door and Duskwood demands us back... what happens to us?"

Phil blinked, her words clearly catching him off guard. For a second, he looked genuinely puzzled, his eyes scanning her worried face as if trying to decode what she was trying to say. He didn't pull away. Instead, he let out a soft, rough sigh and shifted his weight, pinning her slightly deeper into the mattress.

“What do you think will happen, Claire?” he murmured, his voice laced with genuine confusion. “Because I feel like in your head, things look completely different than in mine.”

For a moment, she let herself be pinned to the mattress and just felt him all over.

“You make it sound so easy,” she murmured, her voice dropping so low it was almost swallowed by the quiet room. She focused on her fingers, still resting against the steady, warm beat of his chest, scraping lightly, watching pale red marks appear on his skin. “But in my head, I’m already trying to figure out how to untangle myself from my own life. I’m thinking about how to leave everything behind, just to be here. With you.”

She took a shaky breath, finally forcing herself to look up and meet his eyes.

“I want to take that risk, Phil. I do,” she confessed, her eyes shining with absolute honesty. “But I am scared to death that the moment I step through that door to go and close my chapters, reality will just catch up with you. I’m terrified that once I'm not here, in your bed, your life will just close back up. That the space you have for me right now will just... disappear, swallowed by your routine. And I will be left alone, again.”

Phil went completely still, his entire frame freezing against hers. The warmth that usually softened his eyes in her presence vanished in an instant, replaced by a dark, dangerous simmer. His fingers tightened around her jaw with a sudden, bruising intensity; not to hurt her, but because his control had just hit another wall.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now, Claire?" he growled, his voice dropping, making her heart skip a beat.

For a moment, she wondered when the moment would come that Phil would just have enough of her and her overthinking.

Before she could even process his anger, Phil shifted his weight with sudden force, pinning her flat against the mattress. He trapped her wrists on either side of her head, anchoring her completely beneath him.

"Look at me," he commanded, his chest heaving against hers. "You look me in the eyes and you tell me how the hell you can say that. After last night. After everything."

Claire gasped, startled by the sheer heat of his reaction, but Phil wasn't done. He leaned closer, his dark eyes boring into hers.

"I spent weeks in prison, Claire. Weeks. With nothing but your voice in my head to keep me from tearing that prison apart. I survived that hell because of you," he spat the words out, fierce and protective, his pride raw and bleeding before her. "If a prison cell couldn't make me lose you, what the fuck makes you think a little distance will? You think I'm just going to let someone else slide into your place? You think you're that easily replaced?"

Seeing the raw, defensive anger in his eyes, Claire curled up in herself. She realized how deeply her fear had insulted him; it hurt her more than any difficult thoughts still swimming in her head.

“I’m sorry, Phil,” she pleaded desperately, her hands moving up to cup his jaw, trying to soothe the tension in his rigid face. He let her do that. “I’m so sorry. It’s not about you, it’s not about your feelings, I swear... It’s just me. It’s just my head. I’m just terrified because I've never wanted something this much, and the thought of losing you...”

Her voice broke, thick with tears she refused to cry. Phil stared down at her, his jaw clenching as he processed her words. Slowly, the dangerous heat in his eyes shifted, turning into something darker, heavy with possession.

"Good," Phil murmured, his voice a low vibration against her skin. "Keep that in mind."

He shifted slightly, his gaze dropping to the smooth curve of her shoulder. Right there, stark against her pale skin, was the dark, purplish mark he had left during the night. Phil intentionally pressed his thumb right against the hickey, applying just enough pressure to make Claire gasp, a sharp spike of heat shooting through her. Before she could recover, he leaned down, his lips brushing the darkened skin, his teeth giving it one more small, warning nip.

"Now, listen to me very carefully," he murmured into her shoulder, his hand anchoring her hips flat against the bed. "I don’t mark my territory unless I intend to keep it. I put my brand on you, darling. That means you’re mine now. Go back, close your chapters, do whatever the fuck you need to do, but remember that your place is right here. And you will come back to me. Understood?"

The absolute certainty in his voice finally quieted the storm in her mind. A wave of profound relief washed over Claire, so intense it made her eyes sting. She didn't say another word; she didn't need to. Instead, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his.

This kiss was entirely different. There was no panic, just pure, unfiltered gratitude. She melted against him, letting herself simply enjoy the taste of him, the heavy warmth of his body.

When they finally parted, Phil pulled her tightly against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around her frame. He rested his chin on top of her head, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her bare back.

"So," he murmured, his deep voice vibrating against her collarbone. "How long do I have you for? When do you have to leave Duskwood?"

Claire’s heart immediately sank upon hearing the questions. She let out a small sigh, burying her face deeper into the crook of his neck. "Three days," she admitted quietly, hating how short it sounded. She was already mourning the loss.

Phil snorted, his hand caressing her bare thigh. "Three days? That's plenty of time."

He shifted just enough to look down at her, his expression leaving no room for argument. "Here is what’s going to happen, Claire. For the next three days, you are coming back to this bed every single night. I don't care how exhausting or intense it gets with the Duskwood crowd: when the day is done, you belong here. Understood?"

Claire blinked, her heart fluttering at his protective, uncompromising tone. She nodded, her fingers caressing his jaw.

"And as for tonight," Phil continued, a small, devastatingly handsome smirk touching his lips. "I'm closing the Aurora. Once you're done meeting the team, I'm taking you out for a proper date. How does the Black Swan sound, hm?"

A breathtaking smile broke across Claire’s face. She had to get closer again, kissing him deeply, her heart finally safe from her own fears.

**

The closer they got to the cafe, the more the outside world tried to push its way back into Claire’s mind. Through the large glass window, she could see them clearly: Jessy nervously stirring her coffee, Thomas looking at Hannah with a mixture of adoration and guilt, Cleo and Dan locked in some intense discussion. Her heart squeezed with anticipation; people she had known for months through a monitor would finally take the shape of real people. Real friends.

"Sure you don't want to come in and say hello?" she asked, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips as she turned to look at Phil. He looked so unbothered and cool at the same time that she had to remind herself it was really a man who chose her, and was proud of it.

Phil let out a rough, scoffing laugh, shifting his shoulders in his leather jacket. "You are my world, darling, but I’d rather die before sitting at the same table with Thomas and Cleo. The first and only time for that will be our wedding."

She tried very hard not to overthink the words she had just heard. Before she could even unbuckle her seatbelt, Phil was already out of the car. She watched him through the window, her heart swelling with that familiar, intense warmth as he walked straight to the trunk, popped it open, and pulled her small overnight bag out.

"Phil! What are you doing?" she laughed breathlessly, stepping out of the car to meet him.

"You won't be needing this," he countered easily, tossing the strap over his broad shoulder. A devastatingly arrogant, handsome smirk cut across his face. "This is going straight up to my room. You're sleeping in my bed tonight. I'm just making sure you don't get any funny ideas about staying anywhere else."

She let herself be engulfed by the warmth and certainty he spoke with. He was so completely unapologetic about wanting her, so certain about it. She didn't even try to argue; she just slipped her hand into his, her fingers locking perfectly with his as he led her toward the entrance.

As they neared the glass door, she caught the exact moment Jessy looked up and froze. The rest of the group followed her gaze, their conversations dying instantly as they stared at Phil holding Claire’s hand in broad daylight.

She wasn’t going to hide. She wanted everyone to see. Claire was so fiercely, entirely in love with this man, she wanted the whole world to know.

Phil, fully aware of the audience, didn't hesitate for a second. He caught her gaze, his eyes dark with possessiveness, pulling her in by the waist. She didn't even have time to breathe before his lips crashed onto hers.

It was a deep, bruising, utterly intoxicating kiss. Right there, in the middle of the street, in full view of the entire town. Claire threw her arms around his neck, melting into his familiar scent of cedarwood and leather. The world stopped existing. It was just them.

When he finally pulled back, her lips were tingling, her head spinning in the best way possible. Phil stared down at her, his eyes burning with a quiet, triumphant satisfaction. He ran his thumb roughly over her lower lip, leaning down to whisper against her ear.

"Go do what you have to do," he murmured, his deep, smoky voice sending a shiver straight down her spine. "I'll pick you up at seven for the Black Swan. Don't be late, Claire. I don't like to be kept waiting for what's mine."

Phil gave her one final, lingering wink, turned on his heel, and walked away, her bag slung carelessly over his shoulder.

It was finally time to do what she had come to Duskwood for. She just had to figure out what to tell all of it to Jessy first.