Every brush of her fingers across my skin felt like a brand, each movement deliberate and reverent in a way that pissed me off—because I didn’t want to be worshipped.
I wanted to be feared.
Obeyed.
But with her?
I wanted something else entirely.
I didn’t speak. Just watched her, the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the way her lips pressed together like she was holding back too much.
There was fire in those eyes. Always had been.
Fierce. Stubborn. Defiant.
But beneath it—something else.
Softness.
Uncertainty.
And that? That was mine, too.
Her voice broke the silence, low and uncertain. “What did he say?”
The memory of Logan’s smug little jab made my teeth grind. I flexed my jaw, the anger still fresh, still sharp. “He made a comment about our marriage.”
The words tasted bitter in my mouth, my voice rough with the edge of something darker than irritation.
“About what?” she asked, lifting her eyes to mine. Brave girl. Always searching for cracks in the mask, like she didn’t already know I was made of fractures.
“He said you were either sold with a bow or a leash.”
I watched the shock ripple across her face, followed by something better—rage.
Her grip on the bandage tightened. Good. I wanted her to feel it. I needed her to.
The silence between us stretched, heavy with heat and fury. That closeness—that damned pull—crept in again, her body brushing mine as she worked. My blood still hummed, not from the injury, but from her. The scent of her, the warmth, the way her pulse betrayed her even when her mouth stayed shut.
“I can’t believe he said that,” she finally muttered, voice trembling—not from fear, no, but from that righteous burn beneath her skin.
I leaned in then, lowering my voice not out of softness, but strategy. “You should’ve seen his face when I snapped.”
Her eyes snapped to mine, breath hitching just like I knew it would.
That spark was there.
That fire I wanted to fan into something uncontrollable.
“And what did you do?” she asked, her voice sharper now.
I let a smirk curl at the corner of my mouth. “I made sure he understood that no one disrespects you while I’m breathing.”
That was the truth.
Not because I was noble.
Because she was mine. And I protect what was mine—brutally.
