The violent scene unfolds before my eyes like a horror film. The steering wheel creaks under the pressure of my grip as Iimagine squeezing the life from Gage when he grabs Delilah’s throat. In the blink of an eye, he could snap her neck.
And my entire world would burn to ash.
The mere thought of her dying is like a physical blow. The SUV’s movements reflect my internal agony, veering too far to the right before I straighten the vehicle. My hands shake uncontrollably, a manifestation of an emotion I’ve only experienced a few times in my life.
Fear.
I was afraid the first time my father struck me, as well as the first time he stabbed me. I was frightened when he took a whip to my flesh and when he put a bullet in my thigh. But all of that was because I didn’t know the level of pain to come. It was conceivable, but not confirmed yet.
If Delilah were to be killed, I can’t even comprehend the level of devastation it would bring.
I’m going to fucking kill Gage, no matter the outcome of tonight’s altercation. I’m going to torture him to the fullest extent, crush his empire, and then when I’m certain he’s suffered, I’ll end his life.
Although his suffering won’t be a fraction of the agony he’s dredged up with just the mere thought of Delilah’s life in danger.
Fury, hot and unyielding, courses through every fiber of my being as I watch Eric engage Delilah in conversation. What the fuck is he saying to her? Is he taunting her with the intent to kill her, or is he merely toying with her to fuck with me?
It’s working.
I’ve never been religious or given a thought to a supernatural deity, but in that moment, I pray to every god I can think of to protect Delilah until I can do it myself. Either the universe hears my pathetic attempts at prayer, or fate decides to smile on me for once instead of fucking me over like usual.
Delilah knees Eric in the balls and slams her elbow in his gut, forcing him to let go of her. I hold my breath until my lungs scream as I watch her scurry back inside my room and shut the door behind her.
I release a shaky breath, my entire body fucking trembling in relief at the close call. The tremors wrack my body to the point I lose control of my grip on the wheel, and I nearly go off the road. Again.
This girl is going to wreck me in every way possible.
Dual emotions collide inside me, a fusion of pride in her ferocity and a seething wrath aimed at Eric for thinking he could touch what belongs to me. And Delilah is mine.
I’m going to have to make that clearer.
To my enemies.
To my bride.
To the world.
The duration of the drive back to the university is the cruelest torture, each second away from Delilah adding to this bomb inside me that’s ready to explode.
I constantly flick my gaze to the live feed of her in my room. Eventually, she makes her way to the bed and falls asleep. Even then, the need for violence, this level of intensity doesn’t decrease. Only until I see her with my eyes and touch her with my hands and fuck her with my cock will I finally be able to think properly.
By the time I park the SUV in the garage, the sun is rising above the horizon. The urgency to see Delilah overrides any lethargy that threatens to slow me down. I don’t need sleep.
I need her.
Although, I’m still fucking pissed at my girl. She’s going to learn some things today…
My feelings for Delilah have transcended any pretense of mere possession. She’s etched herself into the very marrow ofmy bones, imprinted herself on my heart so that it beats for her. Itlivesfor her.
When I finally reach the door, my turmoil reaches its peak. Until I step inside the dark room and my gaze lands on Delilah sleeping peacefully in my bed. After that, the agony dissipates.
I have no idea how long I stand there, simply watching the rise and fall of her chest, my eyes glued to the movement while my brain tries to reassure me she’s alive. The need to touch her only grows until I’m crossing the room to feel the warmth of her skin.
After slowly lowering myself to the edge of the bed, I trace the contours of her face with my gaze, then with my fingers. I follow the curve of her lips, the angles of her cheeks, and the sweep of her jaw. She is perfection in human form.
This woman lies there in the peacefulness of repose, a stark contrast to the chaos roiling inside me. Leaning closer, so close that my breath stirs the hair at her temple, I whisper into the quiet, my words a truth I’ve never wanted to admit.
“A raptor is a fierce and formidable bird of prey, and the crow’s natural enemy. When a crow strays from its flock, that’s when it’s most vulnerable, when it exposes itself to the danger of the raptor’s lethal presence.
