"What happens when it's fixed? When the bounty's cleared?"
My arms tighten around her. I've been avoiding this question, even in my own mind. "What do you want to happen?"
She's silent for a long moment, her fingers playing with the collar of my shirt. "I don't know."
My heart sinks. What does she want? Freedom, a normal life, a man who didn't stalk her for weeks before claiming her?
Maybe that’s what her mind wants, but her body tells a different story. The way she melts when I call her "baby girl." The way she comes apart when I fill her. The way she's stopped trying to leave.
"You're safe here," I tell her, my hand sliding under her shirt to stroke the soft skin of her back. "That's what matters right now."
She sighs, and I feel her surrender in the way she relaxes against me. Another small victory.
The sound of tires on gravel interrupts the moment. Beck stiffens in my arms.
"Delivery," I explain, easing her off my lap. "Ordered some supplies."
I check the security camera feed on my phone—a nondescript delivery van, one driver. Expected. Safe. I grab my gun anyway, tucking it into the back of my jeans before heading to the door.
The delivery guy is young, maybe mid-twenties, with an easy smile that sets my teeth on edge immediately. He holds a stack of boxes.
"Gray Maddox?" he asks, consulting his clipboard.
I nod, taking the boxes. "Thanks."
But instead of leaving, he peers past me into the cabin, eyes landing on Beck who's now standing in the kitchen doorway. His gaze lingers on her bare legs, the way my shirt hangs off one shoulder.
"That all?" I ask, my voice dropping to a warning rumble.
He doesn't take the hint. "Nice place you got here, way out in the mountains." He's still looking at Beck. "Must get lonely."
My vision edges with red. "No," I say flatly. "It doesn't."
Beck shifts uncomfortably under his stare, tugging the hem of the shirt lower. A protective growl builds in my throat.
"Need a signature," the guy says, finally dragging his eyes back to me and holding out his clipboard.
I scrawl my name, deliberately pressing hard enough to tear the paper. A message. "We're done here."
But the fucker still doesn't leave. "Storm coming in tonight," he says conversationally. Now he's looking at Beck again. "Might get stranded if the roads flood. I could come back, check on you folks?—"
The door slams with enough force to rattle the windows. I don't remember closing it. Don't remember setting down theboxes. All I know is that the red has completely taken over my vision, and there's a roaring in my ears like a freight train.
"Gray?" Beck's voice, uncertain.
I turn to her, knowing my expression must be terrifying from the way she takes a step back. Good. She should be afraid right now. I'm not safe. Not when another man looks at her like that. Not when another man offers to "come back" to my territory, to what's mine.
"He looked at you," I snarl, advancing on her.
She backs up until she hits the wall.
"He was imagining you naked." I cage her in with my arms. "Thinking about what you'd feel like. Taste like."
"Gray, you're being?—"
"Mine!” The word tears from my throat as I lift her, hands gripping her ass as her legs instinctively wrap around my waist. "Say it."
Her eyes are wide, pupils dilating with a mixture of fear and arousal. "Yours," she whispers. "I'm yours, Gray."
