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Should I? According to my mother, no.
Nonetheless, I won’t be fucking my wife tonight, but having her in my bed might make me feel accomplished in some way. Having her within my reach at all times when I’ve been keeping a distance from her because she drives me crazy with talks of hernotclaiming her in any way, shape, or form might be a nice little reality check.
And, while I’m figuring out my next move on Cillian, keeping her scared might keep her out of trouble for a little bit.
Swinging my legs over the bed, I slowly amble toward her and examine how the hell I’m going to move her without waking her.
I want to actually fucking sleep tonight.
However, I’m not sure how much I’ll get from putting her in my bed and knowing that she’s there.
Not going to know unless you try.
Bending over, I’m able to get my hands underneath her as I lift her in the air.
I notice that she feels smaller than she was before arriving with Cillian and her father and that her starving to death is something she’d more than likely do.
Which is stupid because this story is still going to end up the same, so why bother putting your body through more turmoil before the real shit begins?
Haven’s red hair drapes over my arm as I round my bed to place her down on the mattress. When I get her down, I can’t help but examine her further.
The sleeves of her wedding dress drape over her shoulders and give me a clear view of her collarbone. Her skin is a flawless ivory…untouched by anything, and I want to mark it just to say I had.
Yet, I’m not sure how I would feel about scars remaining there because I can’t deny that I like her skin as it is now. Unblemished for the world and any other man that may have touched her.
My fingers flinch at the idea, but I pivot to get on my side of the bed.
I’m not going to sit up and share a night with Kohen stewing over shit that could or couldn’t have been.
Her past is hers, and I’m not and can’t play a part in that.
However, her future is a whole other story that’s mine for the taking.
19
FINN
I wakeup in a violent start because I can’t breathe.
My body lunges forward, but there’s weight stopping me from getting up in my groggy state.
My finger immediately goes to my face, finding a soft barrier as I try to yank it free. A little grunt sound from somewhere, and I’m confused, but only for the briefest of seconds.
Haven.
Someone is trying to take my fucking wife.
Thrusting my hips forward, the weight tumbles off my thighs as I rip what appears to be a pillow from my airways just for it to be fought for.
My brain tries to click on, getting into killer mode, when I hear the scared whimper of my wife again, and it all comes crumbling down on me like an avalanche.
Using the pillow to my advantage, I propel my body up again and hold on to the object before flipping the body onto the mattress and getting on top.
Ripping the cushion from my attacker’s hold, I toss it into the room somewhere just to come face to face with the redheaded she-devil.
Haven.
She just tried to fucking kill me.
