Page 150 of Heart of Frost and Scars

The thought of losing her, of her choosing Monty, is a pain too deep to fathom.

32

Monty

—

The yacht knifes through the ink-black water, returning us to the island’s safety. Standing at the helm, I endure Frankie’s scalding silence, a penance for my behavior.

I came on too strong, unable to stop myself. I usually have better control. But it’s been 314 days since I’ve had her alone.

314 days of hell.

Putting my hands all over her, however, isn’t how I earn back her trust.

I glance at her, and she glares back with eyes that peel away my clothes and rip open my throat. A paradox of seduction and hostility.

Christ, it turns me on.

It reminds me of our courtship.

I went without sex for a year while I chased her. A year of suffering her rejections, her repulsion, her stubbornness, and the worst case of blue balls.

But when she finally gave in?

It was ebon nirvana. I took her to bed, and she showed me where the shadows of forgotten stars whisper secrets of eternity, where light and dark coalesce, and the divine and the damned fuse in perfect harmony.

As I entered her body, the pink velvet of her soul wrapped around mine, pulling me into an embrace that altered me on a molecular level.

Whenever I’m with her, the sun never fully sets, and the air shimmers with the soft sighs of the universe.

I didn’t settle down with Frankie Novak. I settled up.

Being her husband is as intoxicating as it is humbling.

She’s given me a luscious, technicolor life, and all I want is to bend her over the dashboard and fuck her ass until she passes out.

I also know that’s not what she needs. She’s too much in her head, and she doesn’t feel safe around me.

Except something changed tonight.

Before I pinned her against the bulkhead, she looked at me differently. She looked at me like she didn’t want to drive a stake through my heart.

She looked at me like the woman I married once looked at me.

On the phone, she said she needed me.

She has me. Always.

But I need to be cautious, extra tender, and patient. I need to remember that the pain of being forced, blackmailed, and abused for the sole pleasure of my sick brother creeps into her thoughts and lingers in her bloodstream.

I need to remember that her livid gaze and mutinous jawline are a result of everything I’ve failed to protect. They also represent the resilience that’s kept her standing.

My throat tightens with regret and resolve. “First thing tomorrow, I’ll launch a full investigation into finding your stalker. I want Sirena on it.”

I expect an argument, but she merely nods.

She knows as well as I do that something needs to be done. The texts, the call, the threats, the implication they know where she is and who she’s with—they’ve gone too far.

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