This is it.
My noble death.
I’ll be welcomed into Valhalla, suffocated between them.
She is sin.
Sin wrapped in silk and steam.
She is so fucking breedable.
There, I said it.
Trey, she was crying. Get your head out of—
Out!
Okay. Deep breaths.
Claim her, make her yours.
“Well, gee, that’s super not helpful,” I mutter under my breath, because apparently, I’ve become the kind of guy who argues with his own cock.
Which, by the way, is nowwide awake.
It twitches.
Like a mole popping out of a hangout.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
I clear my throat, pretending to be a functioning human being.
“So…wifey-to-be,” I say quietly, “Tell me about you. What do you like? What don’t you like? I want to know.”
Smooth. Real smooth.
Totally casual.
Nothing saysemotionally stable future husbandlike asking deep questions while your cock is trying to poke an eye out.
You fucking degenerate.
She blinks up at me, startled. “I…I don’t know,” she murmurs
“I…I like to draw,” she whispers finally, tracing her fingers along the seam of the robe. “But…TV, movies, music…I wasn’t allowed to watch them much. I…I don’t really know what I like. What I want. I only…I only knew what I had to do.”
Thank you, Lord, for seeing sense and letting my boner go at such solemn words.
Perhaps I can be saved after all.
I take a careful step closer. “Then we’ll start small,” I murmur, voice low, deliberate. “You tell me what you like, even if it’s tiny. Even if it’s silly. We’ll figure it out together.”
Her gray eyes lift to mine. A nervous smile flits across her lips. She bites her lower lip, then exhales softly, like she’s testing the air, testing me. “I…I love animals. Dogs, mostly. I…I’ve had pizza twice in my life,” she says, voice catching slightly. “It was…delicious. And…I like clouds. Big, white, fluffy clouds. And…I like the sound of rain. Not the storms. Just…rain tapping against windows.”
I blink at her, heart hammering. She’s listing small, simple joys, and I can’t believe how precious each one feels. Pizza twice. Clouds. Rain. The fact that she’s never experienced normal little things is a punch to my chest.
She swallows, curls bouncing with the motion, and her voice softens further. “I…I like when people are kind. Even little things. A smile, a word…it feels…good.”
