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“What does it mean, Swan?”
“Sangre por la vida,” she replies, swallowing down her choked sob while pointing to the small ruby that rests in the middle of Christ’s chest. “Blood to live. Piedad del enemigo y Salavación para sobrevivir.”
“What’s that?” I keep her talking because I know she’ll unravel.
“Mercy and salvation. Mercy for the enemy and salvation to survive.” She touches her fingertip to the sapphire at the top and the emerald at the bottom before pointing to the citrine on the right and the diamond on the left. “Hope to love and peace in death.”
“Which one of them bothers you?”
There’s a tick to her jaw as she levels me with an impassive stare. “All of them.”
A moment of silence follows where I’m certain she’s waiting for me to take over the conversation so she doesn’t have to go on. However, I’ve done this with her before. I’ve acquiesced and been the first one to throw in the towel. This time it’s her turn to bleed for me.
“Where was mercy when Arabella’s child was murdered? And where was salvation when my nan was ravaged by cancer? She was the only one that was always there. That always cared. And peace? Where’s my peace now?”
“You are my peace,” I tell her, unclasping the necklace and turning it so that it faces the right way as I hold it up in front of her neck. “You’re my salvation, and you are my hope. I’m not merciful by nature, Georgina, but I think that I could be with you at my side, and one day my blood will be your blood. It will course through our veins and that of the babies that we will have, and it will forever live on even when we are long gone.”
“You are dangerous, Frederick Emsworth. You are a devil and an angel all at the same time.”
“I thought I was a god? Your god.”
Bunching her hair in her hands, she lifts it while she brings her neck flush to the chain.
“Good girl,” I tell her, pressing a firm kiss to her forehead as I clasp the crucifix around her neck. “We can find our own meanings and make our own rules. There is nothing that will ever reign over us. Nothing that will ever stop me from protecting you. I’ll always be your salvation from the shadows, my precious girl. I’m always going to be the mercy that you yield at your enemies. There’ll never be a day that I don’t love you enough to give you hope, and I’ll be your refuge through all the hard times. Your peace in the storm.”
“What if you are the storm?”
“Then—” I blow a long breath, lowering my face to the crook of her neck, depositing a kiss behind her ear before I nip at the scented flesh. “—then I will devour you.”
“Fuck,” she hisses, shuddering over my hardening cock while I run the flat of my tongue down to her collarbone and then bite softly back up.
“I am most certainly going to do that.”
Her sultry laugh fills the room, morphing into those gorgeous raspy moans that make my blood scorch in my veins with nothing but need for her. A need that never sates. A longing that will only ever grow.
“Freddie…” Georgina whispers, hands bracketing my jaw as I bring my lips to hers.
“Yes?”
“I want—I want you to hurt me.”
My heart pounds beyond control at her request. It’s not the first time she’s asked me, but it is the first that I hesitate as I hold her in my arms and she presses her body to mine.
“Georgina.”
“I need to feel something other than this horrible sadness. I’m so lost, and I want to find myself again. I don’t want to drown, my love.”
There’s no warning or preamble to the lone tear the drips down one side of her face. No flooding or ocean precedes or follows it. It’s simply one lonely fucking tear, like she really is at the end of all her wits, and so lost that she can’t even find the tears to cry.
“I want you to fuck me and mark me. Spank me, bite me…bruise every fucking inch of me if you have to. Just make it go away, please. Give me hope, Freddie…anything…
“I’ve given you what you need,” she murmurs, gaze flitting down between us as she rests a hand over the crucifix. “Now won’t you give me what I need?”
“Always.”
“Then do it. Do this.”
Pushing off my lap to her feet, Georgina stands, taking my hand as she sits back on the kitchen table. Tugging the satin bow on her shorts undone, she yanks at it hard enough that it comes free, and while she’s holding it aloft in front of me, Georgina releases my hand from her other. Without averting her gaze, she tugs the long satin tie of her cami that holds it together at the front. The whispering hiss has my heart stuttering as the top falls open, leaving her tits exposed to me.
