“He’s precious, don’t you think?” I ask, tracing a finger across Rowan’s forehead, and his little sigh melts my heart as he snuggles deeper into Saint.
“Yeah.” I glance up at the rough timber in Saint’s tone to notice him watching me, a possessive streak glinting in his eyes. “One of these would look good on you.” My breath catches, and he smirks. “Stay here, I’m going to find one of his dads, then we’ll head home.” Nodding, I chew on my lip as I watch him walk away.
Scotty and Aria giggle their way over to me as Scotty points at Saint. “If that man doesn’t knock you up tonight, it’s going to be soon.” I rub her burgeoning belly, having the same feeling.
“I can’t believe you’re having another one,” I say, tickling her side, and I’m rewarded with a kick. “You want a boy?”
She shakes her head immediately. “I honestly don’t care so long as they’re healthy, but Jax is such a girl dad, I don’t think he’d know what to do with a boy.”
The man in question currently chases his youngest around as she laughs and screams, and I know she’s right.
“What about you, Aria? Ready to think about another one?” A horrified look crosses her face, and we all share a laugh.
“Not yet. Sev and Ro have been yapping about it, but honestly, I just want to enjoy Rowan right now. Gus has been such a huge help, too, but she goes back to school next week. I don’t think I can even picture more yet.” The love and happiness in her eyes say otherwise. “Besides, I think it’s your turn.”
“I worry I won’t be a good mom,” I quietly confess, and they both look at me like I’ve sprouted a second head.
“No chance,” Aria says with conviction.
“Yeah, not when you’re the favorite aunt. Any one of these rugrats would tell you the same. Especially Ariella. You’re her favorite person in the world, next to her parents,” Scotty assures me.
Shrugging, I’m doubtful but hope they’re right as Saint approaches, nodding at the girls and gripping my hand in his. I say goodbye and follow along. We exit the house, and he pulls me into his arms to steal a kiss.
Sweeping his tongue into my startled mouth, he licks at me, tasting everywhere he can while picking me up and walking towards his truck. I’m so lost in him as he opens the door, and my ass hits the seat.
“You sure?” he asks, pulling back to search my eyes.
“Yeah, Saint, I’m sure.” Rubbing my hands up and down his chest, my thighs tighten on his hips, pulling him farther into me.
“You’re in complete control. I want you to take as much or little as you want.”
Grinning at his serious expression, my hands tug his head back down until our lips touch as I say, “I want everything you have to offer, Saint. I want us to finally be free of the pain from my past and enjoy each other the way we were always intended to.”
“Mmmm.” That delicate sound from him is so tender that it brings tears to my eyes. “Buckle up,” he orders, but does it for me as he reluctantly backs away from me.
Closing my door, he darts around to his side, clips his belt, and starts the truck, squealing the tires as he tears out of the driveway for home.
It’s a clear night, with stars dotting the sky and faint outlines of clouds in the distance. It’s a perfect scene for making dreams and wishing upon shooting stars.
Ordinarily, it would remind me of that night.
“It was clear like this that night. There’d been rain earlier in the evening while we ate dinner. But after, the sky was so clear, you could count the stars.” My throat tightens as Saint’s driving slows, but my gaze remains locked on a bright star all alone. “I remember staring up at the sky and wishing for morning to come. Because then I would have been noticed missing. They would have been forced to let me go or kill me.”
Saint makes a choked sound, and my head slowly turns to find his jaw clenched so tight it’s ticking, while his hands wrap the steering wheel in such a fierce grip it sounds like it’s about to crack.
“I remember everything like it happened yesterday. Every day I wake up and remember. The way they ripped into my body like they owned me. The bruises from their hands and fingers still haunt me. Sometimes, if I slip too far into my mind, I’ll randomly flinch because I feel it happening again. I want you to replace those feelings, Saint.”
His head twists to meet my stare before refocusing on the road.
In the gentlest voice, he says, “I won’t hurt you.”
“I never thought you would.” As he turns into his driveway, I blow out a trapped breath, waiting until we’re outside before saying, “I want you to know they took pleasure in making me scream and cry. They got more vicious if I was silent. They said vile things I wish I could forget.” Saint stands in front of me, panting, with fists clenched at his side. “I’m telling you this because I know you’re going to kill them all. I want you to. But I don’t want it to be easy for them. I want them to suffer the way I did. I want you to make them cry for their mommies and laugh in their faces. Subject them to what they did to me, Saint, because they deserve it.”
Finally, he reaches a single hand forward, not quite touching me but hovering over my face, and I recognize the tension in his body. Veins bulge, while muscles ripple and coil with the need for violence that lives and breathes inside of him like the predator he is.
When our skin finally meets, his finger tracing my lips as our eyes clash, I see his rage building and coiling like a snake, ready to strike.
“I’ll make an example of them,” he says in such a feral tone that if I hadn’t been so focused on him, I wouldn’t have recognized it as his.
