He reaches for a blanket beside the chaise and drapes it over my body. The tenderness of the gesture makes my eyes sting with fresh tears.
"Shh." He lies down beside me, pulling me into his arms. "You're okay. I've got you."
I curl into him, pressing my face against his chest. I can hear his heartbeat, still racing. The warmth of his skin and the solid strength of his arms around me feels so good. He smells like wine and sex and man.
We lie there in the candlelight, wrapped around each other, breathing together. The cellar is quiet except for the soft music and the occasional crackle of a candle flame. Black heart balloons drift lazily in the corners of my vision.
Whatever this is,whoeverhe is, it feels right. Like I've been waiting my whole life for someone to want me this badly, to pursue me this relentlessly, to claim me this completely.
My captor. My predator.
My...
I don't finish the thought. I'm not ready for what comes after that word.
Instead, I close my eyes and let myself drift, safe in the arms of a monster who makes me feel more alive than I've ever felt before.
The candles flicker.
The music plays.
I'm not ready to wake up from this dream yet.
CHAPTER 8
LUKE
She's asleep in my arms, and I've never been more in love.
The candles have burned down to half their original height, wax pooling in rivulets down their sides. The ambient music has looped back to the beginning, soft and haunting in the quiet cellar. The balloons drift lazily overhead, catching the flickering light.
And Seraphina is curled against my chest. Because she does. She always has.
I trace my fingers through her hair, working out the tangles from her run through the vineyard. She stirs slightly at the touch but doesn't wake, just burrows deeper into my warmth. The blanket I wrapped around her has slipped, exposing one bare shoulder, and I pull it back up carefully.
I should let her rest. After everything I put her through tonight she deserves to sleep.
But I'm not done with her yet.
The night is still young by my standards. I have more planned—another scene, another game, another way to take her apart and put her back together. The property deed in my pants pocket is burning a hole through the fabric, waiting for the right moment to reveal.
I bought her a vineyard. Fifty acres of grapevines and rolling hills and this cellar. A place that will be ours—somewhere to escape, somewhere to play, somewhere to build a life together.
Happy Valentine's Day, my love.
She stirs again, and this time her eyes flutter open. They're hazy at first, unfocused, but slowly they find my face. A soft smile curves her wine-stained lips.
"Hey," she murmurs.
"Hey yourself." I press a kiss to her forehead. "How do you feel?"
"Destroyed." But she says it like it's a good thing. Like being destroyed by me is exactly what she wanted. "In the best possible way."
"Good." I shift slightly, pulling her more securely against me. "Because I'm not finished with you."
Her eyes widen, and I see a flash of excitement before it's replaced by that soft, surrendered look she's been wearing since I caught her in the vineyard.
"I don't know if I can take any more," she admits.
