Page 31 of Protector

“We don’t need any time in this world, Bon. We’ll make our own time.”

He leans down and presses a small kiss to my lips, even though he had a gun pointed at his skull moments ago with a threat hanging over his head that if he touched me again, Daddy would do a lot worse to me.

“Second star on the right,” he whispers, and I smile, my arms wrapping around his waist, my cheek crushed against his warm skin.

“Till Neverland.”

Age 15

“Puck, what are you up to?” I laugh quietly as Puck drags me across the dark hallways.

“Be quiet, will you, or we’ll be caught,” he whispers back, clamping his hand tighter on mine as he pulls me along.

It’s past midnight, and Puck has snuck through the hallways of the Rhivers mansion, yanked me out of bed, quite literally, and is now creeping back through the shadows.

It’s dark, but I know some parts of the house, like Carlo’s study, for instance, and the main entrance always has a light on. It might seem like the house is sleeping, but it’s never quite the case. There’s always someone awake and lurking.

Though I have to admit, ninety percent of the time, it’s us.

For the past year, Puck has been sneaking into my room at an unreasonable hour so we can spend more time together, just us.

After the showdown with my father last year, things with me and Puck have been as hard as they have been wonderful.

King has finally come around, and although he’s dropped the whole protective big brother stint, we’ve done our best to not let anything change between us all. Puck is still King’s and Dax’s best friend. They hang out together like they always did, most times with me, other times without. They still go to school together, although Puck is just about to finish the last of his exams now he’s seventeen.

But we didn’t want anything to be different for King and Dax, so we try to keep our hands off each other when they’re around. When I say that, I mean, I try not to kiss him every single second of the day.

So it’s the stolen hours in the dark that we have together, when I really wish I could pause time. Every time I cuddle into Puck, I look at that broken clock on his shoulder and wish we could let the midnight hours last a lifetime.

As we continue to run down the hallways, my bare feet silent against the soft carpet, he comes to a halt at his bedroom door, and I bounce off the back of him, not quite ready for the sudden stop.

“Oww,” I say quietly, rubbing my nose where it hit Puck’s spine.

Another thing that has my hormones going crazy around Puck, even more so now than before. He’s grown, in more ways than one.

His height has shot up, and he’s definitely almost hitting seven feet. He’s a giant compared to my tiny five foot two. Then there's his arms. They’re huge. Puck and both King and Dax are always in the gym now, and even though it’s super annoying sometimes, especially when they go on about it, I can’t complain too much whenever my eyes land on Puck. His arms are big and strong, his stomach and abs are defined and lean. He’s never been so comfortable to cuddle.

It sounds very cliché, but when his arms are around me, I’ve never felt so safe in my life. He’s like a shield that no bullet or sword could break through. And he’s my shield, always there to protect me.

Oh, and did I mention the tattoos?

Puck has been continuously adding to his skin with various tattoos that are now scattered all over both arms and extending onto his chest and back.

Some might say he’s addicted, but it’s an addiction I can definitely get on board with.

He looks hot.

At first, I wondered how he could afford it all. Little did I know, King’s been throwing the family name around a lot in the tattoo parlour.

Puck opens his bedroom door and lets me enter, shutting the door softly behind him, when his arms wrap around my waist.

My mouth drops open a little as I look at Puck’s room. His double bed that normally sits in the far-right corner has been dragged into the middle of the room and is surrounded by thick white sheets. The TV is hidden under the fort and little gold fairy lights are blinking dimly from under the covers.

“Did you do all of this?” I ask, my hands coming up to grab his arms, my fingers tracing the patterns mindlessly.

“Most of it. The fairy lights were Mum’s, since she said it would be cuter.” He laughs, and I twist my neck to look up at him.

“You told your mum you were building me a fort?” I smile, and he shakes his head, a little laugh escaping his lips.

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