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This is the life I’ve chosen—a life filled with endless wars and battles.
What’s the difference if it’s for a woman, or for the club?
This is what I was born to do: fight for what is right.
I watch her closely, taking in the slight tremble of her hands, the way her breath comes in short worrisome bursts.
Her fear is almost tangible, a living thing between us, but so is something else—our connection.
Deep down, I know how easily I’d walk through hell itself to keep her safe.
I force myself to move away from her, heading back over to the front door. “I’m going to make sure he doesn’t get a chance to look inside any longer,”
I yank the curtain by the door across the glass, and then step in front of the large window at the front of the shop and do the same.
Once I’m done, I walk toward her. “Come here,” I say softly, reaching for her.
She hesitates for a brief moment before stepping into my embrace, her body as fragile as hundred year old china against my chest.
Her heartbeat is beating so hard I can feel it as her breasts press against me.
I can feel everything even down to the rise and fall of her breath.
I make a silent vow to keep her safe, and make sure she isn’t living in fear for another day of her life.
She whispers, her tone filled with gratitude. “Thank you for everything,”
I don’t know why she keeps thanking me. “You don’t have to thank me for anything, Astra. Stop doin’ that shit.”
She laughs, but it’s filled with emotion. “I don’t know what else to say.”
I murmur, looking into her eyes softly. “You don’t have to say anything.”
One thing baffles me.
How could this beautiful woman have been hurt?
How could anyone ever want to hurt someone like this?
It’s bullshit.
She’s a rare treasure, a precious jewel, and he didn’t know what he had.
His loss is my gain, but I never would want her to go through such pain again.
Astra’s eyes lock onto mine, which only reels me in deeper.
I’m lost in everything she is, not truly understanding the raw desire I have for her.
The pull between us is undeniable, it’s magnetic, and I’m not the kind of man who will let a good thing pass him by.
I brush a stray lock of sexy red hair from her face, fingertips grazing the scar near her hairline—the mark of her past.
It’s a stark reminder of what she’s endured, of what she’s escaped.
“Python, you don't have to do this,” she chokes out, her voice laced with uncertainty. “This isn’t your war.”
With my tone low and fierce, I reply. “It feels like it is. You’re the one I want, Astra. Plus, I’m your boyfriend.” I wiggle my eyebrows in jest and she smirks.
