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She’d never thought about her wardrobe in terms of what could or couldn’t accommodate a sling. Stupid little things like cuffs and seams had never featured in her thoughts. Now they were important details.
Turning off the light, she opened the bathroom door. One step into the bedroom, the sight of a figure by the other door stopped her dead.
His identity registered fast. “Conn…” she said on an exhale. “Don’t do that. You scared the crap out of me.”
“You shouldn’t be alone.”
“I shouldn’t be alone?” she asked. “Why not?”
“Get your shit together, we’re getting out of here.”
“What? To go back to Stag?” she asked, shaking her head. “Doesn’t work for me.”
“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” he said like he couldn’t believe her insubordination. “Get your damn shit—”
“No! This is my home. I won’t let them chase me out of here.”
“You don’t know what you’re dealing with,” he said, striding over. “I’m taking care of this. Taking care of you.”
“No,” she said again, her resolve slipping as her breathing grew shallow. Closing her eyes, she backed up a step and came up against the bathroom doorframe. “You should go.”
“Why?” he asked, his fingers combing into her hair, scooping down and around until he cradled her chin. “I’m sorry.”
The gentle murmur was so startling, her eyes opened to his. “For what?”
“I swear they’ll pay for what they did to you.”
“You already killed one guy,” she said, though didn’t know what happened to the second guy after her identification condemned him.
“It’s not enough,” he said, tipping her chin higher. “I will hunt down every person they ever cared about. Every minute of every fucking day, they’ll pay for hurting you, for touching you.”
“The people they cared about didn’t do this to me,” she said. “I know who did this to me. You know who did this to me. You know why.”
“Because you’re a McDade,” he said, keeping hold of her chin while his other hand stroked and finger combed her hair. “You didn’t surrender.”
“If I had, they’d just have killed me.”
“Macushla,” he breathed, descending to rest his mouth on hers.
The gentle need fractured her defenses. Her hand rose to his neck, clinging to him as her lips parted and his tongue slipped past them. The safety, the security of Stag, was in that kiss. She’d needed this steadfast, stalwart of shelter to be herself again, to be free, to be protected.
Except he’d taken it away. He’d stolen it from her and could do that again, any minute he chose.
“No,” she said, planting her hand on his chest to separate them.
“Let’s get out of here.”
He took her hand and started to move, but she stayed put. “No,” she said when he looked back. “I appreciate you being worried about me, but I’m staying here.”
“You do what you’re fucking told.”
“No,” she said, her hand slipping out of his. “Not anymore.” His jaw tightened. The heat of fury rose in his eyes. “I’m not scared of you, Conn. Even after seeing all the terrible things you did to the asshole who hurt me, I’m not scared of you.” Just in case he was thinking about showing her that anger. “You don’t want me to be afraid of you.”
“You think I can’t force you?”
“No, you can,” she said with a slight nod. “But you won’t. You want my consent. You want to be in charge, but you want me to want that.” His lips thinned again. “You want me to submit. Voluntarily.”
How many times had he told her she wasn’t a prisoner? With the video, even when he had the upper hand, he didn’t force her. He got satisfaction in her choice to give him the power.
