Page 26 of Daddy’s Hunted Bride

For a moment, I’m certain I’ve pushed him too far and I’m about to get my bottom roasted as promised.

But then Dane does something so unexpected I can only stare at him in stunned surprise.

He laughs.

“Fair play, little fox.” Pulling me back against him, he presses a kiss to my hair, and despite everything my heart stutters a bit in my chest. “I think your Uncle Ford is next.”

The smallest of the brothers—though still plenty large enough by normal standards—steps forward and holds out a slender rectangular box. “I’m afraid there’s no Nessie here,” he says with an apologetic shrug as I tear the wrapping off.

“A thermometer?” I ask, possibly more confused by this single gift than I have been by anything else that’s happened since I arrived in Colorado.

“So your Daddy can make sure you stay a healthy Little girl,” Ford explains.

“Oh. That’s… very thoughtful.” More practical, certainly, than any of the other gifts we’ve received so far.

“Now for my gift.” The giant that is Eli claps his hands twice. “Brunch is ready downstairs.”

My so-called cousins cheer loudly as their Daddies carry them out of the room, followed by Eli, Ford, and Gray. Dane slides off the bed to hunt down fresh clothes for himself while I watch him move about the room.

It’s the first chance I’ve had to simply sit and observe him. And I’m not at all disappointed. For a man his size, he moves with a lethal kind of grace, reminding me of a large jungle cat.

The kind that could easily tear a fox to pieces if it was so inclined.

But instead of terrifying me, that thought has me clenching my thighs together against a rush of painful arousal.

What is happening to me?

I don’t have time to give that question the attention it deserves before Dane—now fully dressed, which I am not disappointed by—swings me up into his arms.

“Whoops. Almost forgot Nessie,” he says with a grin as he bends down to pick up my stuffie and hand her to me. “My Little girl can’t go wandering around without her best friend.”

“Josie is my best friend.” But I snuggle the stuffed animal to my chest anyway, and try to tell myself it’s because I’m playing the part of his good Little girl and not at all because I love the feel of her in my arms.

“Is she? I thought she was your boss.”

“Sort of,” I say with a shrug as he carries me down the stairs. “I started out as a superfan of hers, and then we got to talking about her books and I offered to do some promotional stuff for her and the rest is history.”

I don’t share with him that I’ve never really been good at making friends. Or that the family I claimed to have back in New York is actually just a set of estranged parents I haven’t spoken to in over five years. As far as the Thornes are concerned, I have a whole giant group of people waiting for me back home. It might not force their hand, but I can hope that it worries them, at least a bit.

“That’s pretty cool, actually,” he says as we make our way toward the stairs. “I assume she told you all about how she knows us.”

“She did.” Since I don’t know when I’ll get another opening like this, I push straight through. “But she was kinda vague. She said you had to like, fake your deaths and leave New York but she didn’t tell me why. So why did you leave?”

Grief contorts his face for a moment before he smooths out his expression again. “Our uncle murdered our parents. And he would have murdered us, too, if we hadn’t left.”

Holy fuck. Of all the things he could have said, that was the absolute last thing I expected. “Was your uncle like, a serial killer or something? I read this book once about the different types and there’s one called the Family Annihilator, but that’s usually like a husband who kills his wife and kids and stuff.”

Pausing on the steps, he turns his head to stare at me. “I really am going to have to keep an eye on what you’re watching and reading.”

Eyes narrowing, I lift my stuffie up so they’re eye to eye. “Try it, and Nessie will eat your toes in your sleep.”

Again he surprises me by laughing, loud and deep as he resumes his trek down the stairs. “Maybe I should sleep with one eye open.”

“You definitely should.”

“Mmm. Or maybe I should just spank you and fuck your cute little bottom every night before bed so you’re too tired to plot my demise.”

Okay I have to admit that would probably work even better than sleeping with one eye open. But I don’t want to give him time to realize exactly how effective that threat is, so I change the topic again. “So, your uncle. Just a crazy person, or…?”