Since the night of the attack, I’ve learned how to shoot a gun. We run drills on getting to the panic room. And Hades decided to have a second panic room installed that can be accessed directly from our bedroom, in addition to my new closet. Life at the compound has settled into a comfortable routine.
And each day, I’ve fallen even more in love with my husband.
He grins as he approaches with his cocky swagger. He leans down over me on the outdoor chaise, kissing me on the lips first, and then he plants another on the gentle swell of my belly.
“How are you and the little squirt doing?” Hades eyes me with a wicked grin.
“Better. This child better be an angel.” Morning sickness has been no joke. And it doesn’t happen just in the morning, but all day. Although it’s finally easing a bit once I crossed the four-month mark in the pregnancy.
“Then you should come in. The water is amazing. See, feel.” He brings my hand up to his chest and slides it down. Because he knows I can’t resist him. He knows the moment I touch him, or he touches me, I’m a goner.
“Or maybe you should join me here.” I tug him down, and his kiss ignites a maelstrom of need pulsing inside me.
Love for him swells inside me. Because my brutal King of Torture saved me with a love greater than anything I’ve known. And I know forever won’t be long enough with my king.
