Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
He curses under his breath. “Jesus fucking Christ, Ash, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
I blow out a breath, and before I can answer, he continues. “We need to figure out how to handle this before it turns into a war.”
“Aye.”
War. Because of me. Because I couldn't keep my hands off what didn't belong to me.
Except… she does belong to me. Always has.
“I'll be there in an hour.”
“Make it thirty minutes,” he says. “And Ash? Leave the girl wherever you've been hiding her. This conversation might not be one she needs to hear.”
He ends the call before I can respond. I run a hand through my hair. He knows. And he’s gonna lose his fucking mind because there’s no way I’m leaving her here.
I stand there, phone in hand, staring at nothing. Leave her at the cabin? Over my dead body. I suppose it makes tactical sense—leave her safe here while I go clean up the mess I made. But no. Crowning knows she's missing. He's looking for her. And if he connects her disappearance to me, to this place…
No.
“Ashland?”
Bianca's voice is soft and sleepy. I turn to find her in the doorway, wearing nothing but my shirt from last night. My god, the sight of her curvy body silhouetted against my tee—I swallow hard.
She’s here, in my bed, in my clothes, and she trusts me. I have to go against what Seamus tells me, even if he'll fucking kill me for it.
I'd crawl over flames just to be with her. Her curvy, pale legs are bare, her hair wild over her shoulders. She looks like every goddamn fantasy I've ever had and knew I didn't deserve.
“Come here,” I rasp.
She smiles and moves toward me, practically bouncing. “Come back to bed?”
I catch her around the waist and pull her against me, breathing in the scent of vanilla and rose. “I can't, love.”
“Why not?”
“Family business. My cousin needs me.”
“Oh.” She bites her lip, and I want to soothe it with my thumb, kiss away the worry. “How long will you be gone?”
I hesitate. I don’t want to tell her that he knows.
“Take me with you,” she whispers, cutting me off.
I have to, but I hesitate. Leaving her here leaves her vulnerable. Bringing her with me…
“If it's important, I want to be part of your life, Ashland. Not just someone you hide away.”
She looks away from me, and I know without her saying it that this is a wound she carries. Someone else made her feel small, unwanted, and kept in the shadows.
Every instinct screams at me to say no, to keep her separate from the violence, the politics, and whatever complications come next. But Crowning's already looking for her, already making this personal. Hiding her here—if he traces her to me, if he finds this place while I'm gone…
No.
She's safer with me.
“You need to get dressed,” I tell her.
Her face lights up like I just promised her the world. “Really? You mean it?” She grins, and Christ, she's so fucking beautiful it hurts. “Really, Ashland?”
“Aye. You're coming with me, but you have to listen to me, lass.” I cup her face, making sure she sees how serious I am. “We're in danger—you and me both. I can't risk anything happening to you. Do you understand?”
“Aye,” she says with a sad smile. “But I feel safe with you. I know you won’t let anyone hurt me. I mean, I don't want you to think I'm using you—”
“Stop.” I silence her with a kiss, my lips claiming hers. I cup the back of her head and give us half a minute just to breathe each other in. She trusts me. I love her. That has to be enough.
It will be.
“Seamus said thirty minutes,” I whisper. “We have to go. Now.”
I pull back, my voice low and rough. “Let's go. I'll fight for you, Bianca. I won't let him touch you.” I frame her face with both hands, forcing her to hold my gaze. “They're taking on a fight they didn't ask for because of me, but I love you. Do you hear me? I can't—” My jaw clenches. “I already lost someone I loved to this world. I won't lose you too.”
Her eyes widen as she nods and swallows hard.
“You’ll tell me,” she whispers, as if testing the words. “But not now. Alright?”
“Aye.”
“You love me,” she says. “You really do, don’t you?”
“Aye, lass. I loved you every day I watched you. I love you so much it's made me a monster—one who takes you and tells himself it's for protection.”
Tears well in her eyes, catching the morning light.
“You don't have to say it back,” I continue quickly. “I know what this is, what I am. Trauma bonding, Stockholm syndrome, whatever the fuck a therapist would call it. But it doesn't change how I feel—”