KARMA IS OFTEN slow to respond, and because of its intimate relationship with destiny, often waits until a future incarnation. I won’t have to wait that long though—it’s been long enough. Fate became my divinity today when I got a phone call from an old buddy I hadn’t heard from in a while. Seems there’s a guy who needs to get his hands on an airline flight manifest—the same airline I’ve been working at for the past decade.
It’s not the first time I’ve been approached to do something that would entail turning my back on the oath of honesty this job requires. But this is the first time I want to turn my back—and I did.
All it took was one name.
Steve Archer.
I first heard that name sixteen years ago when my brother was arrested for smuggling guns over international lines.
I sought my revenge on that man after I found out he ratted out my brother, but it was too late, he was already dead.
Or so I thought.
I hung up the phone and immediately pulled up the manifest for the flight in question. Since I work for the airline’s IT department, retrieving the document took mere minutes to do. Steve Archer wasn’t on the list though.
But that’s okay, because I have the man’s name that’s looking for him. Lachlan Stroud—he will serve as my map, leading me to fulfill long overdue retribution.
WAKING UP THIS morning is surreal. It’s what I used to fantasize about back in Chicago when Declan told me about this estate. And although I’ve been staying here with him for a couple weeks now, this is first time I’ve truly felt connected to him. He’s made his feelings known; he’s made it very clear that he’s not leaving. I’ve had my doubts, but after talking to Pike last night and Declan forcing me to reconnect and trust him, something has shifted between us.
I’m snug in his arms as I watch the sun bathe the walls. Everything around me glows in warmth. My body sinks into the arms of my prince as we wake in our castle. I try to control my elation, because this world is filled with unknowns that lurk behind the corners of life’s winding streets. But for now, I’m at peace.
I watch Declan as he sleeps, and for the first time, I see the stress I’ve inflicted up close. It’s in the extra grey hairs that weren’t there in Chicago. It’s in his beard that’s a few weeks overgrown. It’s in the deepening lines at the corners of his eyes. I reach out and run my hand along his jaw, through the bristly hair of his beard. It crackles against my palm, and I smile. He begins to rouse, but I don’t stop touching, feeling, studying. Every touch, smell, sight, I cement to my memory. Carving everything about him into the delicate flesh of my heart.
Strong fingers comb through my hair as he wakes, opening his eyes—bright emerald green.
“’Morning, darling.” His voice is wrapped coarsely in sleepiness.
“Mmm,” I hum softly, nuzzling my head against his chest, and I fall deeper into his hold when he tightens his arms around me.
His body is so warm against mine, and I wonder what I was so afraid of. How did I allow my mind to trick me into believing he was the one to fear? So many questions come to life, and I want to punish myself for doubting him so much, for shutting him out, for not trusting his love.
“Tell me how you feel,” he requests, and without any hesitation, I respond, “Safe.”
He rolls over on top of me, propping himself up on his hands. I push a lock of hair back that’s fallen over his eyes and keep my hand fixed in his thick tresses.
“This is all I wanted, you know? You, here with me—safe.”
“I’m here,” I whisper softly.
He drops tender kisses along my shoulder, across my collarbone, and over the swell of my breasts. I feel his cock harden against my thigh beneath the sheets, and I open my legs for him to settle against me. His lips move down the length of my body, and his soft kisses intensify when he sinks his teeth into my flesh. His greedy hunger punctures, and I scream through the pain, but I don’t want him to stop.
Blood trickles along my stomach and legs as he continues to bite me between his gentle kisses.
This is how savages love.
With his scent from last night still dried on my body, he now marks me in a different way.
My legs open wider when he buries his head between my thighs. He’s a wild beast, fucking my * with his mouth. He leaves my hands free to pull and rip his hair as I mewl loudly in sexual delirium. Time no longer exists in this room as he devours me powerless.