During that time, I’d reminded her again and again that she was precious. A fucking treasure, but she still hadn’t quite accepted what that meant.
Each night, I held her in her sleep. Held her through her fitful dreams that incited a fury inside me that I could barely keep restrained.
A fury that one day I would unleash on the monster who had the girl a prisoner to the type of nightmares I still didn’t understand.
Where she’d sweat and whimper and beg to be set free.
I’d whisper in her ear that it was going to be alright. That I’d die before I let anyone get to her.
I knew that was part of her dread, too.
She believed her being here put me in danger.
It did.
I wasn’t a fool.
It was a calculated risk.
And she was worth any cost.
I strode back through the bathroom and grabbed my suit jacket from where I had it draped on the back of a chair, and I headed out the door.
I slammed right into her presence.
Aster was barefoot by the island, slathering butter over a piece of toast. Her hair wild and pulled into a reckless knot on her head. A black sweatshirt draped off one delicious shoulder, and she wore these tight leggings that made her ass look juicy and ripe.
A growl got free.
I wanted to devour her.
Take her.
Hold her.
Keep her.
She felt me staring, the way she took a cautious peek my way and the sweet, bashful smile tweaked at the edge of her gorgeous mouth.
“Holy shit. I must have died and went to heaven because there’s an angel in my kitchen.”
I gave her the cheesiest line I could find because I wanted to see the blush rise to the surface of her skin. I ate up the way she fought the amusement as she stood there shifting on her cute little feet trying to act like I didn’t affect her.
“You think you’re some kind of charmer, huh?” Her teeth raked her bottom lip like she could hold in the giggle.
Fucking loved that sound.
Aster happy.
“The most charming there is. Have you even met me? I mean, I’m so charming, that’s Prince to you.” I let go of the same sort of tease I would have in a group of my favorite people. When I was playing outrageous because outrageous and carefree was the only way to keep myself from taking a swift trip to Los Angeles so I could go on a murder spree.
It was the one city Trent had made me swear an oath never to return to. An oath I’d broken because I’d promised this girl I would always find my way back to her.
I beat down any kind of bitterness that tried to sprout when I thought back to the devastation that return visit had spawned.
The hatred I’d held for years. The hurt. This agony that I’d thought would go on for the rest of my days.
I wondered when looking at her had stopped hurting quite so bad.