But I didn’t.
She blinked up at me, blood trickling down her temple.She didn’t scream.She didn’t even ask who I was.She only reached for me with shaking fingers and whispered, “Legend?”
She thought I was him.
And I let her.
I carried her into the woods, away from the curve in the road, away from the headlights.She curled into me like she had been waiting to collapse into someone’s arms for years.Rain soaked her clothes, her lashes, her mouth.I felt her breath warm against my throat.Her fingers dug into my hoodie.She trembled in a way that made my entire body lock.
I wanted her.
Not just her body.
Her surrender.
I wanted to put her on the wet leaves and take her like the earth had already claimed her.Wanted to kiss her until she forgot every man except the one holding her.Wanted to mark her where no preacher could scrub the stain off.
I carried her.
I made sure she lived.
And I eventually, yeah, I fucked her.Let her believe it was Legend in the mask.
Then I disappeared like the ghost she thought I was.
I moved on.
She rolls onto her back now, stirring from sleep.Her eyes open, hazy then sharp.Switchblade eyes of two different colors lock on me.Then they flick toward the chain, then toward me.Disgust curls her lip, but behind it, there is something else.Something dark and curious.
“How long are you gonna watch me like some kind of pervert?”she asks, voice rough from sleep but rabid all the same.
I shrug.“You ain’t that interesting.”
She tugs the chain, metal scraping against metal.“Then let me go.”
“You’re staying.”
“For how long?”
Standing, I move toward her, letting my shadow fall over her.She tenses but refuses to shrink.She wants me to see, she can meet any threat head on.
“As long as it takes.”
“To do what?”she snaps.“Make Sophie feel better?Let Legend sleep easier?Or is this just your sick little fantasy?”
Grabbing the chain, I jerk it tight.Not enough to hurt her.Enough to remind her she’s bound to me.Her eyes widen, and she hates that reaction, hates that her body betrays her.
“You think this is about sex?”I say.“You think I chained you here to fuck you,”
She smirks.“Ain’t that what Kings do with their property?”
The words hit center mass.Because she ain’t wrong.We’ve fucked women with less provocation.We’ve claimed girls for sport.But Becki Crowley ain’t a pastime.Not for me at least.She’s a risk with teeth.
“You ain’t my punishment?”I say, the insult sounding fake even to me.“You’re evidence.”
Her brows knit together.“What does that mean?”
“It means we don’t know who we are dealing with.And until we do, you stay.”
