Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 242

242 The Mercy That Cuts Deeper 2

Arya’s POVO

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I stayed against him, not trusting my face. Not trusting my voice. His heart beat slow and steady

beneath my cheek. It made me feel small in a way I did not hate. Safe in a way I did not know how to

ask for.

His fingers slid into my hair and held there.

Then his voice changed again. Still soft. Still close. But firmer now.

“There is something you need to remember.”

I lifted my head slightly, enough to look up at him.

His gaze held mine.

“Death is often the easy way out.”

The words landed between us. I did not answer immediately. I knew who he was talking about. I knew what he was warning me against Marcel The thought of killing Marcel had lived in me for so long

Chapter Unlocked, Enjoy Reading! that it felt almost natural now. Sometimes it came with fire. Sometimes with quiet. Sometimes it sat in me like a cold promise. There had been nights I imagined his blood on my hands and felt peace at the thought. There had been mornings I imagined him gone from the world and thought maybe then

something inside me would stop hurting.

Lev saw all of that. He must have. Because he did not look shocked by it. He did not look afraid of it.

He only looked intent on making me understand.

“If you kill him too quickly,” he said, “you may give him mercy he has not earned.”

I stared at him. My pulse thudded once. Hard.

That was the thing, wasn’t it? Death sounded like justice when the wound was fresh enough. But it

also ended things. It closed the account. It cut the line. It stopped the suffering. And men like Marcel,

men who had fed on power and humiliation and control, often deserved more than a quick ending. They deserved to live long enough to feel everything being stripped from them. Piece by piece. Breath

by breath. Pride first. Then certainty. Then the illusion that anyone would come save them.

My eyes must have shown something because Lev’s thumb brushed slowly along my jaw.

“You should consider that before you decide what form your revenge will take.”

I swallowed. It took effort.

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“I have thought about killing him.”

“I know.”

“You say that like it doesn’t bother you.”

His gaze did not waver.

“It bothers me less than what he did to you.”

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That silenced me. Because how was I meant to fight a man who said things like that and meant

them? How was I meant to stay guarded when he kept reaching the parts of me I had stopped

showing anyone? I looked down between us. I could not help it. My thoughts were moving too fast.

Part of me felt darkly vindicated by what he was saying. Part of me felt seen. Another part felt

ashamed of how much hatred still lived in me.

“I don’t know what will be enough,” I said quietly.

His hand left my jaw only so he could tilt my chin up again.

“You don’t have to decide tonight.”

“But I will.”

“I know.”

“What if it changes me?”

“It already has.”

I flinched slightly at how true that was.

His expression softened.

“That doesn’t mean it has ruined you.”

I looked at him, and for one terrible second I wanted to cry again even though I had told myself I would

not. The grief of that nearly swallowed me. Not just for what Marcel and James had done. For the

woman I had been before them. For the parts of me that had believed too easily. For the softness I had

once carried without fear.

Lev touched his forehead to mine.

“Listen to me.”

I did.

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“When the time comes, you will choose with a clear mind. Not from the first wound. Not from the first scream. You will choose from strength.”

A slow breath left me. He always made it sound possible. Even the ugliest parts. Even the parts of me I did not want examined.

I nodded.

He watched my face carefully, as if making sure I had truly heard him.

Then, because maybe the heaviness had become too much or maybe because he knew exactly how far to push and when to ease, his mouth brushed the corner of mine. Barely there. A promise more than a kiss. I felt it everywhere.

His voice turned rougher.

“Though if you keep looking at me like that, I may stop being wise.”

I blinked, caught off guard.

“Like what?”

“Like you want to thank me.”

Heat spread through me fast and deep. I should have said something sharp. I should have tried to

recover ground. Instead I made the mistake of glancing at his mouth.

His eyes darkened immediately.

That was all it took.

The room shifted around us. The air changed. So did I. Maybe I had changed the moment he said your pain is mine. Maybe I had changed before that. Maybe tonight had cracked something open and now there was no pretending otherwise. All I knew was that I wanted to be close to him. Closer than this. I

wanted to stop thinking for one blessed moment and feel something else instead. Something that did not taste like fear or humiliation or rage.

My voice came out lower than I expected.

“Maybe I do.”

His breath touched my face.

“Then do it.”

My heart kicked hard. He did not move first. That was the worst part. He waited. He let me choose. And that undid me more than if he had simply taken what he wanted.

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Slowly, I lifted my hand and placed it against his face. His jaw was warm beneath my palm, rough with

the beginning of stubble. He leaned into the touch just enough to make my stomach tighten. Then I rose slightly on my toes and kissed him.

He answered at once.

Not gently. Not softly. But not out of control either. Lev kissed like he did everything else. With intention. With restraint that made the force beneath it feel even bigger. His hand spread across my back and pulled me into him. My body met his fully. Heat flared between us so fast it almost made me

dizzy.

I kissed him harder.

He made a low sound that went straight through me. His mouth moved against mine with growing hunger, and I let him have it. I let him have everything I could not say. Gratitude. Want. Relief. Ache. Trust. All the dangerous things I should have guarded better.

His hand slid into my hair and tipped my head back. His mouth left mine only to find my throat. I shivered at once. My fingers gripped his shoulders.

“Lev.”

He kissed the pulse there once, twice, then lifted his head slightly.

“Yes?”

The way he said it made my knees weak. I almost laughed at myself for that. Almost. Instead I stared up at him, my breath uneven, my body already too aware of his.

“I don’t want to think anymore.”

His gaze searched mine, making sure.

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