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“Is that why you snuck up on a chef in her kitchen?” she jokes, grinding her ass against me a little.
I nip at her neck. “Just testing your reflexes.”
“Well, then, be glad I wasn’t still holding the knife.” She chuckles and swats at me. When she makes a move to get back to work, I stop her, taking her hands and threading our fingers together before wrapping my arms arou
nd her again.
Against her body, one exhale releases every ounce of stress and tension that lingers from my day. I want to stay here forever, wrapped up in the little cocoon of her essence.
How the hell does she do this to me? How did she manage to claim my entire fucking heart?
I don’t know. But I don’t ever want it back.
“I’m glad you're here,” I murmur into her neck. “I’m glad you’re with us.”
She goes still in my arms. I can feel her heart beating against my chest, the small movement of her chest as she inhales. Then she wriggles in my grip again, and this time, I loosen my hold. But instead of reaching for the cutlery, she turns around in my arms.
Grace doesn’t say anything, not for a long moment.
She doesn’t have to. Even though I can tell she wants to say it back, even though I can sense that she agrees, she doesn’t have to.
Having her here is enough. This minute—this second—is enough.
Cradling her chin in my hands, I lean in and press my lips to hers. She kisses me back, heat building between us as my hands slide down her back to grip her ass, pulling her tighter against me in a possessive, greedy motion.
She whimpers softly, and I chuckle, nipping at her lower lip. I meant every word I just said to her, and I hope she can feel it in this kiss.
Grace is ours now. She’s one of us.
And I’m never letting her go.
6
Lucas
Grace is sitting in a chair by the window in her bedroom when I knock and poke my head in. She looks up, a smile blooming on her face at the sight of me.
“Lucas!”
Fuck, I like this. I could get fucking addicted to this. To coming home and finding her here, to seeing her face light up when she sees me. It beats the hell out of the anger and suspicion that once lingered in her eyes when she looked at me. It’s almost hard to remember that time, but I won’t let myself forget. Grace came to us as a prisoner, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she never feels like that again.
That she never feels like anything but a princess.
A fucking queen.
I step inside the room as she sets her book down, and she meets me halfway, wrapping her arms around my waist. “I’m glad you’re back. It’s been quiet around here without you, and I hate all this fucking waiting.”
“Yeah.” I grimace. “Me too. But it’s worth it. We need to make sure that slimy fucker is keeping up his end of our deal.”
Hale put me and Zaid on babysitting duty for the past few days, watching and monitoring Leland’s movements. Obviously, we weren’t able to get near Rook territory without raising suspicion, but there’s no fucking way we were going to let the man go totally unwatched. If he tried to skip town or compromise the mission, we’d take him out.
“Is Zaid back too?”
“Yeah. Downstairs,” I explain. “So is Leland.”
“Oh.”
For some reason, that single word from Grace’s mouth sends a twist of hatred through my stomach—for her sake. I can tell that although she tries to hide it, she’s upset by the news that he’s back in this house. I don’t fucking blame her.
