A crackle in the air. A menacing growl.
It’s—
—my salvation.
“…my wife?!”
A relieved gasp.
Then, nothing.
The night splinters around me.
Darkness surrounds me, caresses me, soothes me.
Gentle patter of rain against glass—safe, not threatening.
Rose petals pressed against oil-slicked skin.
I inhale deeply. Searching. Waiting.
Hoping.
And there it is—thereheis—smoke and pine.
Stuttered heartbeats and bated breath.
Rough hands close around my wrists. A sharp gasp.
Darkness blinds me, but I don’t need to see.
I already know—rage consumes him.
It’s in the dig of his blunt nails in my soft skin, in the rough scrape of his stubble against my neck, in the finger-shaped bruises he’s searing into my thighs.
“Zev,” I whisper. I can’t move, can’t see, can’t think. Only feel. “Zev, please.”
He stills.
His massive body presses harder into mine, until my lungs won’t expand, but I don’t care. I just need him close. I need himmine.
“Zev.” A plea, a prayer. “Zev, Zev, Zev.”
No teasing laugh. No whispered promise. No gravelly voice.
He gives me only his silence.
And his anger.
The sharp bite of teeth tugging my earlobe.
Rough knees forcing my thighs apart.
A large hand fisted in my hair.
I don’t care. I’ll take it all.
I’ll take whatever he gives me.
