Page 10 of Bound

She tilts her chin. “For me, right?”

Because I am a bastard. Because I buy things when I do not know how to say I am afraid. Because I wanted a place where her surrender could never be mistaken for weakness. Because I wanted her pleasure under my control in the only context where that control does not make her smaller.

Because I want too much.

Because I am too much.

Because she wants me all the same.

I stop in front of her. “Only for you.”

Her cheeks heat. “That was presumptuous.”

“Yes.”

“And lovely.”

“Yes.”

“And maybe even a bit romantic,” she mutters.

My mouth curves. “My girl.” I lift my hand, slowly enough that she can move away.

She does not.

I touch her jaw. “In this room, you can let go. You don’t have to be proud. Or brave.”

Her throat works. “That’s just how I am.”

“No. It isn’t.” I brush my thumb over her lower lip. “You can be soft. With me. I’ll be your protective shell.”

Her eyes close. For the first time since we left Red Shutters, she relaxes. The sight hits me low in the chest.

The war is upstairs. Carlos is somewhere in the world with Marina’s silence. Isobel is in the east wing, carrying secrets while feigning fear. Blaze is likely two minutes away from leaving us for his wife.

The Bachman family is strong but it feels like we’re holding on by a thread after the Village attack. Each branch has a leader in their separate locations, but the cohesion seems to have weakened along with the Village.

We are in a tailspin. All of us. Scattered around the globe, fighting to get back our power in New York, to return to our home, our history.

I’m in Iceland for God’s sake.

In a summerhouse I only dreamed of spending a week or two at.

Alone like the beast in his castle.

Now, I’ve carted what feels like half the family and part of Scotland here with us.

In the middle of winter.

But there is one constant in all of this chaos.

Her.

Erin is here. Warm. Alive. Mine. Not bought.

Chosen.

She opens her eyes. “What happens in here?”