My gaze strays to the row of picture frames on our mantle, scenes from the last month. Since we moved into town, Lainey has made a point of us going out in public. We’ve gone to the park and lazed in the sun for hours. Restaurants, the library, festivals. Wherever we go, she keeps her chin up, her fingers twined with mine, daring anyone to comment on my appearance or size.
She’s…a gift from God. My gift. One I have the privilege of waking up with every day of my life. A compromise meant I’d leave the woods and live in town, as long as she slept in our home instead of at camp…and in nothing short of a miracle, she agreed. I’ll never stop being shocked when I open my eyes and find her smiling back at me. Soon I will have enough money in my bank account to purchase a diamond big enough to anchor a ship—only then will I propose. I know Lainey doesn’t care about material possessions, but I won’t allow anything but the best to rest upon the hand that holds mine with such sweetness. Such defiance, love and determination.
A wave of need sends me back to the window, searching for Lainey on the street even though she hasn’t had enough time to shop yet. I’ve become even more anxious since she missed her period. A pregnancy test is one of the items on her shopping list, and I’m torn between lust over her potentially swelling stomach and fear that she’ll eventually go through pain because of me.
My desire to tuck her into bed for the length of the pregnancy isn’t going to fly, either. Not with my Lainey. The summer is almost over, so she’ll no longer be working at the camp, but I know she’s already planning on finding another job once it ends. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Right now, I have to get through a mere trip to the store—
Lainey comes into view and I start to smile, relief filtering into my stomach…
Until I realize she’s running. From a man.
My roar puts a crack in the window.
Chapter Twelve
Lainey
Didn’t I know he wouldn’t stop looking?
At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me in the store, but no. It was him, watching me from the opposite end of the frozen food section. The man who took money from my mother in exchange for my freedom.
I didn’t think, I just dropped my hand basket full of food and started to run. My Swiss Army knife is in my boot, but my pursuer carries a gun. I’m outmatched and I’m not taking chances, especially because I might be carrying a new life inside me. Carver watches me from the window, so I knew as long as I got outside, I would be safe. And that’s where I am now. I’ve just broken free of the sliding glass door and I’m gunning toward our building when I hear my king let loose an unholy sound that stops pedestrians in their tracks.
Without turning around, I know the pimp is probably wondering if hell has opened up and set a demon free, but I don’t stop to confirm. No, I keep running, my knees almost giving out when Carver slams out of our building onto the street, wrath contorting his features and making him seem twice as large as usual.
People in the neighborhood have learned to love Carver since he left the woods and we moved in together in town. He rescues cats from trees, helps little old ladies with their bags and makes everyone feel safer, in general. They know if he’s angry, it’s because I’m somehow in jeopardy…so instead of running away, every head on the street turns in my direction. Based on their shocked expressions, I’m still being chased by the man. I pick up speed.
“Lainey!” bellows Carver, beating a fist on his chest. “Mine!”
Another few seconds and I’ve reached him, sobbing in relief when he pushes me behind his wall of a body. “That’s him,” I whimper, clinging to the back of his shirt. “You can’t kill him, though. Please. They’ll take you away from me.”
I have no idea if Carver hears me or not…and now all I can do is hope the situation turns out okay. Peeking around his right side, I watch the pimp skid to a halt in front of us, his face draining of color. “Jesus Christ.”
“As far as you’re concerned, I might as well be,” Carver grinds out. “Because I’m going to decide whether you live or die.”
Noticing his audience, the man draws himself up to his full height, which is still two feet less than Carver’s. “I paid good money for her.”
Carver’s back muscles ripple against my cheek. “How much? I will repay you and you will never think of her again.”
“It won’t be enough,” the man spits. “I would have made a fortune off her.”
That statement turns out to be a mistake. Carver stalks forward, despite my pitiful attempts to hold him back. He circles the pimp’s neck with a fist—and lifts him clear off the ground. “Look me in the eyes. Do you think I would allow you to take her from me? If you actually succeeded, do you think there’s a place on this earth you could hide that I wouldn’t find and tear you apart?” His ear-splitting growl sends several spectators running. “If you haven’t left this place in two minutes, I will snap the head clear off your body.”
“Fine,” chokes the man, his lips beginning to turn white. “Fine, just…just p-put me down.”
Carver tosses the man like a rag doll into the street. I watch from my position at Carver’s side as he stands, trips, gets up again and runs to a white Honda. As my would-be pimp peels out of town, I circle around to the front of Carver and hold up my arms. He boosts me up and I wrap both legs around his thick waist, my wrists locked behind his neck. “Thank you. I’m sorry you were scared,” I whisper, laying kisses on his neck and cheeks. “It’s over now. Take me home.”
Minutes later, we’re inside the apartment. Carver still hasn’t said a word, but he appears ready to snap. And I know just how to make him better. How to remind him I’m his. Only his. Forever.
Chapter Thirteen
Carver
Fury pulses hot in my veins. The need to commit murder burns me like an inferno. How did I resist killing a man who chased my girl and claimed to own her? The only thing that stopped me was having witnesses. Lainey has worked so hard to make them see me as more than a beast. I could disappoint her or allow them to try and separate us. I’m most definitely a fucking beast right now, though. My fists are shaking, my teeth bared, ready to rip out someone’s throat.
My rage takes on a lustful edge when Lainey presses her hands to my chest. Beneath her touch, my heart slows its hurtling rhythm and grows attuned to her. Beat, beat, beat. My head is still teeming with malice, but Lainey loves her control. And I love giving it to her, even when I’m full of rage. This time, though, I’m not so sure I can let her call the shots. I’m on the goddamn razor’s edge of my limit.
Without saying a word, she trails her fingertips down to my belt buckle, unfastening it, before lowering my zipper, the metallic zing filling the room.
“I am not rational right now, princess,” I moan, my hips tilting forward involuntarily when she fists my cock. “I’m afraid to take you when I’m like this.”
“I’m not,” she says, stroking me slowly. “I’m never afraid. Even when I was running away from that man, I wasn’t scared. I knew you would come.”
“You should not have been made to run at all.” I bury my head in my hands and squeeze, trying to rid myself of the image. “It is killing me to know he exists. To know there’s any man walking this earth who thinks they have a claim on you…”
“Who is the only man with a claim on me?”
“Me.” I lean down and grind the word into her hair through my teeth. “I am.”
A shudder moves Lainey. Her grip grows more insistent, massaging my cock from root to tip with maddening twists. “I need you to show me, though, Carver.”
As Lainey’s trust in me has grown stronger, the more she has allowed me to conquer her in the bedroom, no questions asked. But she always has the ability to make me obey her whims on a dime—and we both know it. If she says stop, my hips freeze and I endure the torture. Whatever I have to do to remind her she’s not trapped. Right now, though, I can see in her eyes, she’s giving herself over, no holds barred. I have free rein over my girl right now. She is no doubt trying to heal my fractured sanity. Trying to refocus my anger into love…and even fully aware of what she’s doing, I’m powerless to do anything but let her. Although “let” isn’t really the right word, because I lift her off the ground, take three giant steps, then lower her to the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace.
Christ, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Big eyes, fastened on me. Her golden hair fans out around her face, her thighs raised to give a peek under her skirt at the ruffled white panties beneath. Panties I slid up her legs this afternoon, before lowering her skirt to cover what I own. To hide it from prying eyes. God. The need to renew my possession clouds my blood like squid ink.
I drop down to my knees in front of her. “Spread your legs.”
“Yes, my king,” she whispers, letting her thighs drop open.
Her breath races. As I watch, moisture appears on the material of her underwear, making the cotton cling and outline the delicious lips beneath. I cup my left hand over that sweet mound and squeeze, using my grip to keep her hips down when they shoot off the floor. “Mine.” I strip the panties off her body in one quick motion, tossing them away. Then I lean down and snap my teeth over her glistening cunt—once, twice—knowing I must look feral and not giving a fuck. “Mine.”