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My release is sudden, every ounce of emotion swirling through me in a torrent as I grit my teeth and spend inside her, my cock kicking as she reaches down and rubs her pussy, bringing herself to orgasm as I kiss her throat reverently. She squeezes me inside her, her body shaking as she comes again, her moans lighting up my mind like electricity on a dark night.
When she breathes out a long sigh, I lay her down and fall beside her. Wiping some sweaty strands from her face, I tell her, “I love you.” Because it’s true. Because I’ll never stop saying it. Because I want her to know each and every day that I treasure her above everything else.
She smiles. “I love you, too. I suppose I can wait till tomorrow to kill you.”
“Thank you.” I kiss her gently, sweetly.
A knock at my door has me growling against her mouth.
“Yes?” I call.
“We have some unexpected guests.” Clayton sounds just as irritated as I feel. That can’t be good.
I sit up. “Trouble?”
“Definitely.”
“What is it?” The fear in Cassandra’s voice has me kissing her once more, trying to soothe it away. But then I stand and fix my clothes before opening the nightstand and taking the gun.
“Hang on to this. The safety is here.” I show her. “Keep it on unless you’re in danger. Then flick it off and shoot the hell out of anyone who’s threatening you. Understand?”
“Wait.” She shakes her head as she sits up. “Don’t go.”
“I’ll be fine.” I kiss her forehead and press the gun into her palm. “Take this. Remember the safety. I’ll be back.” I hurry away from her, and I don’t turn around, because if I do, I’ll want to stay.
Closing the bedroom doors behind me, I walk with Clayton down the long hall.
“I didn’t want to say in front of your wife, but her parents are here.”
My hands fist, but then I shake them loose. “They want her back.” It’s not a question. I knew the Carlisles would want more money, and demanding their daughter back is the way they’d try to shake me down. “They can’t have her.”
“They brought some heavies with them..” Clayton hands me a pistol and pats the one against his chest. “Doesn’t mean there won’t be trouble.”
I nod and tuck the gun in the waistband of my pants as we hurry down the stairs.
If Cassandra’s parents think for one second I’ll let them have their daughter back so they can hurt her even more, they are going to be sorely disappointed. And if they push me? They’ll be dead. I shoot Clayton a glance, and I already know he’s on the same page given the wolfish look on his face.
I return his grin. “Let’s greet our guests.”
14
CASSANDRA
Ikeep my ear to the door until I can no longer hear Luke’s and Clayton’s footsteps. I couldn't make out anything Clayton told Luke. The wood door was too thick. I could only hear the mumble of their voices.
I head back toward my closet to find something suitable to wear. I need to be smart about my selection. I will, after all, be providing protection for my husband, because there is no way I’m allowing anyone else to harm him.I’mthe only one who gets that privilege. I decide on yoga pants and a shirt, something easy to move in if I need to go “super ninja” on anyone. I slip the clothes on and head back toward the bed to get the gun.
Ms. Kittles lets out a loud meow. “You’re right. I need shoes.” I turn back toward the closet and pull on a pair of socks and sneakers. “You going to be quiet if you come with?” I ask Ms. Kittles, who lets out another meow, this one not as loud as the last.
“I’m not going to hurt myself,” I rebuff as I look down at the gun in my hand. The weight is foreign to me. I’ve been around guns, but never like this. I was quick to grab a knife or even a random object to throw, hit, or occasionally stab someone with. Guns were never my thing. When I think of killing, it seems like it would be more personal if I use something else besides a gun. I want the person on the receiving end to feel my revenge. A gun doesn’t fit that description for me. Anyone can use a gun to kill someone, but could they cut an artery using a pencil? The gun I hold now is cold and heavy, but I know it’s the best weapon of choice for me at this point if I want to protect my husband.
“We can do this,” I tell myself and Ms. Kittles, but the worry remains. The finality of a gun is where I think I get caught up. That’s what scares me. It’s quick and easy, but also final. The two other men I’ve attacked were by my own hand. I’d felt somewhat in control. I could pull back at any moment. With a gun, death was likely imminent.
Even so, I grip the metal. “No one is taking him from us.” Slowly, I pull the door open and peek my head out.
“Gray.” I purse my lips at the man. Of course, my husband left a guard on my door. I should have seen that coming.
He gives me a shrug that saysI’m only doing my job.
