It sealed her fate to me. I was compelled and driven by a singular objective of making sure she would never leave me.
No divorce.
Quite a one-eighty from my ambivalence until a week ago.
That decision crystallized in my head as we neared the cabin. Other than the mild throbbing in my shoulder, it was my new, devious plan that made me fall silent in the vehicle. I’d even had fantasies of keeping Lucy locked here. Unhinged, I know. But I’d never felt this type of obsessive possessiveness before. It was like a drug, sparking my blood on fire and everything logical went up in flames.
“You know, for someone who seemed intent on a mountain vacation, you’re going to miss the fantastic view if you don’t stop staring at me.”
“I like staring at you. My wife is more beautiful than any other view.”
She tipped her chin my way. Her eyes caught fire in the first golden light. They were multifaceted brown, as multifaceted as her personality. Even with a lack of sleep, she was stunning.
I wasn’t sure if my recent epiphanies were because of blood loss or my sudden brush with my mortality.
“What’s gotten into you?”
“In case you missed it, it’s not because it’s a vacation. It’s because I wanted to spend time with you and get to know you. Is that so wrong, hmm? No Sorcha. No Sato. No servants. Just us.”
“I’m not sure you thought this through. I haven’t seen you cook, and all I know how to make is grilled cheese and tomato soup.”
Was now the time to remind her I had survived in the Russian wilderness when I was a boy of barely ten? Of course I cooked. Nothing fancy. But I had the ingredients to make a goulash. Which reminded me I needed to haul in more provisions.
“I like grilled cheese, but we have breakfast we could microwave. Don’t worry, Lusenka, you will not starve.” Especially since I’d been keeping tabs on her eating habits.
She laughed and turned her attention back to the sunrise. Meanwhile, I enjoyed my own stunning view. And for the first time since I could remember, I appreciated silent companionship. I was still indifferent to genuinely enjoying the colors of the sunrise, so my gaze traveled the line of the property, assessing its security. Thick woods separated us from our next neighbor, but with winter coming, wildlife tended to show up around these parts. The hunting season had also begun, but Iwasn’t expecting any lost hunters to wander around. I had a rifle in the truck and my pistols on me. The cabin also had a cellar with a stash of weapons.
Thirty minutes later, Lucy microwaved a few breakfast burritos while I hauled in the rest of the stuff. My gunshot wound was a mere inconvenience. I’d been shot in worse places, where convalescing wasn’t even an option. Besides, I had to prove to Lucy that I was physically capable of other fun activities.
That we hadn’t slept last night caught up with my wife, and she didn’t even try to disguise several yawns after eating the burrito. She was a night owl. I had only to remember how she kept up during the poker games I forced her to endure with me.
As for me, I was wired. I was used to operating on minimal sleep.
“There are two bedrooms,” I told her.
She shrugged. “I need to check on your wound.”
“Tell you what…I’ll let you check my wound if we shower together.”
Lucy narrowed her eyes.
“After all, you caused said injury.” I raked my bottom lip with my teeth. “Remember I said, we’ll talk about this later.”
“Is ‘now’ later?”
I prowled toward her. Not touching her, but close enough to throw her off with my intentions. Seemed I still liked to play mind games with my wife. “What do you think?”
Her throat bobbed. “Not until I check your stitches.”
“My stitches are fine.”
“If we’re going to shower, I need to attach that waterproof dressing Sloane gave us.”
I didn’t answer. I merely extended an arm to motion her into the bathroom. My retribution had started. Lucy was aware. Very aware that the vibe between us had shifted from domesticatedcompanionship to predator/prey. Her eyes darted around the cabin as if looking for the exits.
A silent laugh vibrated in my chest even as the wave of possessive lust flooded my veins, making me realize I’d been keeping a tight leash on it ever since Lucy shot me. Obsession with my wife and the outrage that she sought another man’s help to enable her escape, fueled my reckless lack of planning when I stormed into Chloe's house and had gotten myself shot.
It was embarrassing, really. Lucy was my weakness. I needed a semblance of control. Did I feel guilty for using her guilt to manipulate her? Hell no. Manipulation was an intrinsic part of my personality. I wasn’t blind to my wife’s attempt to manage me either. It humored me. It showed me we were evenly matched.
