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“No. Never been used. I wouldn’t let anyone touch it.”
Her relief is tangible, shoulders dropping as she smiles.
“I guess that makes me special, huh?”
Cupping her cheeks, I hold her gaze. “More than you could possibly know.”
“I love—it. I love it,” she says in a rush, skin heating under my palms. “Can I put it on?”
I stroke my thumbs along her cheeks, smiling. “You can, but it means I own you, Firefly. Mind, body and sou—Lucy, you should wait until I’m done talk—”
Laughter bubbles up as she grins like the cat who caught the canary. She lets her hands fall from her neck, the collar resting like it was made just for her.
In reality, it was.
My smile falls, a lump forming in my throat. I let my finger smooth along the fabric, tugging the padlock around to the front. “You’re perfect,” I whisper, darting my gaze to hers. “And you’re mine.”
Officially mine. She’s mine.
I can’t help the single, dark, maniacal laugh that breaks free, or how long the echo hangs in the Venue, slithering into all the corners. It feels better than I imagined being whole again. I now understand everyone’s concern over the last decade. The coddling, the hovering. I had no idea how cracked I’d become until a little firefly landed and shattered my world like it was sugar glass.
She nods, leaning closer. “I’m yours, Sir. Forev…er.” She trails off, ducking her chin, but I curl my fingers under it and level her head.
“Forever and a day, Lucy.”
23
LUCY
Forever. It’s a beautiful sentiment. A beautiful necklace. A beautiful man and a beautiful night.
If only my mind wasn’t wandering all over the place. Deep into the darkest of corners where my demons rise up and steal this all away from me.
I’m sick in the head for how hot and bothered I am over the idea of Ghost ripping Damian to pieces. It’s sexy in and of itself to be so valued by such a powerful man, let alone the man I love.
Even if I can’t muster the courage to say that out loud yet…
But I can’t help but worry. Part of me wants to beg Ghost to take me far, far away from New York City, somewhere neither Damian nor Roman will ever find us. Somewhere safe, where we can barricade the doors and spend all day in bed and not worry about interruptions or violence or consequences.
It’s a selfish, unrealistic desire, and I know that. This isn’t some fairytale where I can sweep him into the sunset and know, without a shadow of a doubt, he’ll never leave. He’ll never be taken from me.
My stomach lurches, the lock on my neck weighing heavily at the thought. Would he teach me to shoot, if I asked? Surely he’s a very dangerous man—I don’t know what’s going on yet, really, but that much is obvious. All the thinly veiled threats and talk of branding and family loyalty makes me think I’ve walked myself into a mafia family, but how do I even go about confirming that? Not like I can outright ask him, right?
His fingers whip my cheek, the slightest bit rougher than he normally does, and I hiccup a breath.
“There you are,” he says, grabbing my jaw roughly and turning my face up. His brow is knit, a small divot of concern between them, his eyes searching mine like he’s worried I’ll pass out or something. “What’s wrong?”
Anxiety spikes in my chest, even as my face flames from his force.
“I…” I swallow past the lump in my throat, reaching shaking hands out for him. “I-I’m… I’m okay. You’re here, I’m okay.”
He taps my wrists and guides them to his shoulders, wrapping his thick arms around my waist and setting me on my feet.
“I am here,” he says into my hair, pressing the most gentle kiss on top of my head. His finger slips under the necklace, giving it a soft tug. “You never have to worry about that.”
But I do. And I will, until I know he won’t get himself killed protecting me.
“There’s something else I want you to see,” he says. “Something very important to me.”
