“Okay.”
“And rule number four. Never lie to me. I need to be able to trust you. My life is very dangerous, and I need to know that you’re safe. Don’t lie about where you’re going or who you’re with. Don’t lie to me to protect yourself or someone else. And don’t lie to make me happy. Anything that you need or that you think you might want, tell me. I don’t want you to worry about bothering me or holding things in because I’m too busy.”
“Okay, I’ll always tell you the truth.” I might just leave some things out.
He gives me a look that says he’s on to me, but he lets it go.
“Rule number five. I’ll kill anyone who touches you.” His eyes burn with raw power and fury, and I believe him.
Welcome back, stiffy. Wait!
“Not my brother, though.”
“Family is okay, but that’s it. I’m serious about this one, Rory. I’m very possessive of my things, and you are most definitely mine.”
“What if I don’t want to be yours?” I need to know how committed he is to me, to us.
“It’s too late, rabbit. I’ve already decided that you’re mine.”
“Good. Because you’re mine too. I’ve claimed you as my Daddy.”
“I’ve never been a Daddy before.”
“Really? But you said you knew.”
“I know in theory, but not in practice.”
“I’d be happy to be your first boy.”
“My only boy.”
I want to shout with joy, but then I try to tamp it down. This man wants me, for now. So I nod.
“I can see that you don’t believe my words, but I’ll prove it to you.” He rolls over so he’s on top of me now but not putting his weight on me. I think I want that, but I’m not sure.
“I trust you, Daddy, but I’m still scared.”
“Are you scared of me?” he asks, and his normally rock-solid expression looks worried.
“Of course not.” I brush my fingers over his forehead to push back his salt-and-pepper hair, but it just falls back. “I know you’d never hurt me.” Physically.
He just stares down at me for a moment like he’s trying to read my soul. I’m sure many people have cracked under his icy stare, but it warms me to be the center of his full attention.
“Never.” He kisses my forehead. “You should try to get some sleep.”
“No sleeping,” I whisper.
“We can just lie here and relax then. No sleeping.” His words are soft and supportive. He’s not upset with me. He just doesn’t want to upset me.
“I really want to sleep, but what if I go back there? I don’t want to remember—” Then I start to cry.
“Oh no.” He gathers me into his arms and pulls me tight to his chest. “I’m so sorry, rabbit.”
I hiccup and bury my face against him. “That’s why I have such trouble sleeping. They are always in my dreams.”
“Are you seeing a therapist?”
“Yes. She tells me it’s common with trauma like mine, but they should get less frequent over time.” The tears fall freely now. “But it seems like that will never happen. I’m so sick of being scared.”
