Rage sears me raw. I lean forward, close enough for her to feel my breath on her cheek. On those sweet, plump-as-fuck lipsI want sucking on my tip because it’s the only bit that’ll fit in that tiny hole she calls a mouth.
“Well, he’s welcome to attempt coming up my mountain.” My voice drops to a dangerous growl. “If he does, he’ll find more than a rope snare waiting for him.”
Her eyes widen. Her lips part. And I see it—the mix of fear, awe, and something darker…heightened, that makes her pulse race faster.
I rise, go and fetch the first aid kit, and leave the words to sink in.
When I return, I kneel in front of her again, same as last night.
Cleaning similar spots and scratches on her calf and up her thighs from bolting blind through the woods.
“Hold still.” My voice comes out rougher than I mean. My hand dwarfs her shin, my thumb spanning half her calf.
She huffs but doesn’t pull away. Her eyes track me while I unwrap the bandage, check the angry red marks. Clean. Healing.
I don’t like the way relief floods me. Like I’ve been holding my breath since I caught her in that snare.
I rewrap her calf and knot it quick. “Let’s go, petal.”
She blinks. “Petal?”
“You don’t like rabbit.” My mouth curves slow. “So you’re petal. Soft. Beautiful. Mine to protect.”
To pleasurably bruise and lick and finger-fuck. Maybe even—no.
She can’t take my cock. And isn’t that just a fucking crying shame?
Her cheeks blaze as if she can read my thoughts. She bites her lip, looking away again.
But she doesn’t argue.
And that’s enough.
For now.
Lily
Petal.
The word blooms in my chest, fragile and dangerous all at once.
Rabbit made me feel small. Prey. Something he could snatch up and devour in one bite.
But petal?
That feels different. Sure, he can crush me in his fist or under that giant’s boot of his, but I sense he’ll take better care.
His voice had roughened on it, like the word meant something. Like I meant something.
I shouldn’t want it. Shouldn’t want his protection, his looming shadow, the way he watches me like I’m already his. But I do.
And his feral reaction to a fraction of what I admitted about Brandon’s treatment?
I can’t stop replaying the moment. Over and over.
The way his eyes burned into mine across the table, his growl promising no man would ever hurt me again. And worse—my body responded. My thighs pressed tight, heat curling where it shouldn’t.
I don’t want to need him. I don’t want to crave the very cage I swore I’d escape. But the more he stares, the more I feel safe inside his darkness.
