This probably isn’t the best time to compliment her. For some reason, she isn’t all that receptive to it and, before I can block it, she rears back and kicks me dead in the nuts.
Fuuuuuuck.
I’m down. Grabbing my junk, rolling on the dirt ground, gasping at the pain in my dick, sucking in a breath when I land on my ass and irritate that wound… she got me. Haven got me good, and the thing that pisses me off the most is that she doesn’t even stick around to enjoy her handiwork.
On the plus side, she could’ve killed me. If that’s what she wanted, I would’ve stood there and let her do it, then thanked her for the honor while my blood was spilling out the same way that Wise’s did. Only she didn’t kill me, and as I force down the agonizing pain so that I can flip myself onto my hands and knees before pulling myself to my feet, all I can think is:progress.
Once I’m standing again, I shove my hand in my pocket. My knife and my phone aren’t the only things I carry on me. In case Haven is spiraling and there’s no time to prepare a sedative forher, I keep one handy. Pulling it out, I lift the syringe up so that I can check it in the moonlight. It’s a miracle that it didn’t break after how hard she worked me over, and I palm it before taking off after Haven again.
I’m prepared for her to jump out at me a second time. We’re going to see who’s faster: me with my syringe or Haven with my knife. Turns out, that’s not necessary. This time, she decides to keep running in the hope that she put me out of commission.
Poor Haven. She underestimated how much I want this. Wanther.A little pain isn’t going to stop me, and though there’ll come a moment when I have to pay the piper, the fact that I explode into the clearing where she’s catching her breath is enough to startle her into running right into my path.
I tackle her. I try to twist, taking the brunt of the fall to my already battered body. I don’t want to hurt her—I never want to hurt her—and I hit the ground hard before shifting our positions, trapping Haven beneath me.
Thankfully, I knocked the knife out of her hand before we fell. Without giving her the chance to recover it and stab me again, I hurriedly jab her in the neck with the syringe.
Her eyes flash at me, and though she doesn’t speak again, I don’t need her to in order to know how fucking pissed she is that I got her down.
It was inevitable though, and as the sedative begins to drag her under, I know there’s enough time to help her understand.
Stroking her cheek, rubbing her temple, I murmur, “For nine years, I had to put a pause on my Claim. Not anymore, my darling… my sweetheart… my love. That only led to someone trying to take you from me. I won’t let that happen. Never again.”
And after tonight? I think she might finally understand that I fucking mean it.
My ass hurts.My nuts ache. Shit, mywholebody aches right about now. Still, I’ve got a bandage slapped on one, ice resting on the other, and yet… I’m not mad.
How can I be? I left the knife where she could grab it. I gave her the perfect opportunity to try and escape me, and rather than stay withdrawn inside her own traumatized mind, she seized it.
I’m so proud of her.
Now, do I wish she would just give up already? The selfish part of me that wants to hold Haven close and call her my wife… yeah, I wish she would. But knowing that she hasn’t? If she hadn’t done a number on my boys with her foot, I might be coming all over again, I’m that excited.
Of course, I can’t let her know that. As much as I appreciate her fire, I don’t want toencourageher to leave me. Not when I’ve made it absolutely clear that that… that’s not going to happen.
And if she needs a bigger hint that I meant it when I say that I can’t let her go?
Once the sedative took hold, I sucked up the pain, hefted her into my shaky arms, and hobbled the rest of the way back to our house. I brought Haven right to the basement where she belongs, laying her out on the bed in the panic room.
Then, because I decided she lost the privilege of shoes after she took off on me, I removed them. After a moment, I figured that she’s easier to keep in one place when she doesn’t have pants so those came with me, too. And because I’m a sick bastard who likes seeing her in her clothes, but loves seeing her in mine, I strip her out of her clothes before putting another of my old t-shirts on her.
Hey. I left her underwear on, so I should at least get credit forthat—though I’m sure, when Haven comes to again, she probably won’t see it that way.
Just like how I’m not so sure how she’ll take the gift I left on her pillow…
She thinks she can escape me. That it’ll be as easy as that. Fat chance, baby, but I’m also done with her thinking she can keep me out, too. That’s why I made sure to give her one of the two keys I own that unlocks both the door to the panic room, the bedroom,andthe bathroom.
This time, I’m the one who leaves a note for her:
Nice try, sweetheart. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that again… and if you think you can hide in here where I can’t find you? Sorry. This key’s yours, but mine? You’ll never find it.
Love you!
Your husband,
Connor
And though I need a sedative myself to sleep through the night after the stab, the tumble, and the kick, I make sure to only give myself a half-dose.
