"Listen to me," I say, my voice low and intense. "You are not damaged goods. You're a strong, honest woman who life hasbeen cruel to. But that's over now. You won't have to worry again."
She shakes her head, disbelief written across her face. "You don't know that. I'm cursed, Reaper. Always have been. The moment I leave this clubhouse, life will punish me for daring to believe I could have anything normal."
"Then don't leave." The words come out before I can think twice. "Stay. Work at the bar if you want. We've been looking for a waitress anyway. The clubhouse has been getting more traffic from people passing through."
A bitter laugh escapes her. "Right. I'd love to work getting groped by a dozen guys every single day."
I chuckle—not on purpose, it just comes out. The idea of anyone touching what's mine is fucking ludicrous. The thought stops me cold. What's mine? Since when did I start thinking of her that way?
I rise to my feet, flexing my shoulders as I tower over her again. "No one would dare to touch what belongs to me."
She gulps visibly, eyes widening. "Is that how you see me? Nothing more than a belonging?"
Fuck. I clench my fists, mentally kicking myself. "No. That's not what I meant." I run a hand over my face, frustrated with my inability to express myself clearly. "You're your own person, Evelyn. But you need to understand… As long as you're here, especially in my room, everyone will assume you belong to me. And if they think that, no one will touch you. You'll be safe."
She stands, her legs trembling slightly, and takes a step toward me. "Are you really willing to protect me?"
"Yes." No hesitation.
She seems nervous suddenly, dragging her tongue across her lips in a way that makes my blood heat. "Is that all you want?"
The question catches me off guard. "What do you mean?"
"Do you only want to protect me? Or do you want more than that?" Her voice drops lower. "Is there a payment due?"
Before I can process what's happening, she grabs the hem of her borrowed shirt and begins pulling it upward. I catch her wrist, stopping her.
"What the fuck are you doing?" My voice is harsher now. "I'm not buying you or anything like it. Christ, Evelyn, after everything, you think I expect payment?"
She tries to shove me away, her small hands pushing against my chest with barely enough force to register.
"I don't understand you," she says, frustration evident in her voice. "You don't want me to leave, but you don't want me either. What am I to you? Are you just taking care of me to get karma on your side or something? I'm trying to rationalize all this."
I sigh, looking down at her. She's beautiful in a way that defies simple description—like a ragged doll that life has tossed aside until someone picks her up and lets her flourish. I want to be that someone. I want to take care of her and discover what's hiding underneath all that pain, to see the real Evelyn emerge.
"It's not about karma," I say quietly. "It's about you."
I lean closer, drawn to her by something I can't name. She leans in too, as if I'm about to share a secret, but now she's too close. Her warm breath brushes against my beard, and I notice a few tiny scars next to her left eyebrow I hadn't seen before. She's looking at me like I've just promised her the world, and I can't resist anymore.
All hell breaks loose inside me. I let myself go, placing a hand on her cheek—my palm spanning nearly her entire face—and kiss her. Her lips are soft and moist, and to my surprise, she kisses me back, gripping my shirt like she's afraid I'll pull away, like she's begging me not to stop, not to go anywhere.
And I know I won't. I'm here and I'll stay. I'll protect her.
We almost dance around my room, locked in the kiss, until we knock against the wall. She takes a step back, half-lidded eyes staring back at me with something I recognize all too well.
"Claim me," she whispers. "Right here. Right now."
"Are you sure?" I have to ask, though every cell in my body is screaming to take what she's offering.
"I'm sure," she says, her voice stronger now. "I need you to replace the bad memories. When I think about someone touching me, I want it to be you. Someone I chose for myself."
Goddamn it. I know I must give her my all, to make sure those bad memories are obliterated when I claim her. I pick her up easily, laying her on the bed before sliding down her pants while kissing her neck and collarbones. She flinches slightly under my touch but doesn't tell me to stop.
She's so small compared to me, delicate in a way that makes me aware of my strength. I grip her curvy hips and pull her against me, wanting her to feel how hard I am, how much I want her.
I slide my hand beneath her panties, watching as her hands grip the sheets when I brush my fingers against her clit. Moving to the edge of the bed, I look up at her.
"Can I take these off?" I ask, fingers hooked in the waistband of her panties.
