“Everything in me… says run,” she admitted.
She shook her head once, frustration flickering across her face.
“Touch still… feels wrong.”
Her voice was careful and tentative as if every word had to be chosen before it left her mouth.
“The fear is… loud.”
Her eyes lifted to mine.
“But I want you more. I want.. choice.”
Her fingers curled tighter.
“Not taken or forced.”
She swallowed.
“You and Knox.”
She continued, softer, but certain.
“I choose you both… to give myself to.”
Then, so quickly I barely had time to register it, her head dipped into the hollow of my throat. Sharp teeth clamped down on my neck.
And she marked me.
Every muscle in my body tightened, nerves sparking with heat as a rush of energy and raw lust tore through me. The bond of it settled deep in my bones.
She had claimed me.
My hands moved between us, working open the button of my fly and pulling the zipper down. Even though I was painfullyimpatient, I moved slow enough that she could see exactly what I was doing. Slow enough that she could stop me if she wanted to.
She didn’t, simply watching me, breathing hard, her body shifting restlessly as she pressed down, grinding against my lap. Against my knot.
“Take your pants off,” I said, sliding her off my lap to the floor.
I lifted my hips, dragging my fatigues down and letting them bunch around my ankles.
She stood between my legs, hesitating only a moment before doing the same.
“Underwear too.”
Her eyes locked onto mine as she pushed her panties down. They fell to the floor beside her pants.
For a moment, I just looked at her.
There was confidence in the way she stood there now. Not perfect, not untouched by what had been done to her, but real. She held my gaze, shoulders squared even as a faint tension still lingered in the lines of her body. She still froze when touched too suddenly. Sometimes the memories crept in and made her pull away.
But she didn’t run.
She stayed, fighting years of conditioning.
And now looking at her, she seemed so different from the silent, terrified girl who used to hide beneath her bed, snapping at us with her teeth.
Was this who Lena had been before Marco, I wondered?
