Page 224 of His Pretty Little Duet

“That was careless. Selfish?—”

“No. It was honest. Real. And you want me to be appalled by it. Shocked. You’re pushing me away even though you would never let me leave. What you don’t realise is… I can handle your evil, Clay.”

Lifting to the tips of my toes again, I place my palms on either side of his neck and kiss him gently. His lips are tight, ready to hiss. But I find a groan in his mouth and when he accepts my tenderness, I fill his clenched kiss with a moan of my own.

I break away from our kiss, leading my lips down his throat. Nervous, never having done this before. His hands come to my hair, gripping me hard, with meaning and acceptance.

With need.

The harsh skin on his jaw chafes my lips in the most amazing, painful, and violent way. It matches his energy, and the way I am willing to suffer it for the taste of him.

“You needed me,” I say against his skin. “You said so yourself. I can be what you need, whenever you need it. I can be the right woman for you, Clay Butcher. I can be your pretty little queen. Let me.”

He pushes me from his neck, ripping my lips away and bracketing my face for his harsh perusal. He stares down at me. “But you'll still be my sweet girl.”

I pant below his deadly blue gaze. “Yes.”

He bristles. “You won't become cold.”

“No.”

“A statue,” he mutters, and then bites out, “Dammit, Fawn. You'll play with your kitten! Blush when you touch yourself. Suck my cock to sleep. Look at the goddamn moon, and hang a dreamcatcher over our son's bed!"

I feel the tears rising, finally attuned with why he doesn’t want me tohandlehis evil. Why he keeps me at arm’s length when he’s consumed by dark dealings. He doesn’t want me to change. I am already the right woman for him. “Did you think I'd just change all of a sudden?”

“Evil can change the very fibres of us, little deer.”

“But we know evil, Sir. We know pain. Trauma. For people like us, only love can change our fibres,” I counter, holding his powerful blue gaze with my own. A smaller body in front of him. But a strong heart, a gentle touch, a submissive and a brat and his little deer. “And so much more, little deer.”

I continue, “We didn’t grow up in the cotton-wool love other children had. We didn’t have love coming and going from people who filter in and out. We didn’t have unconditional love from a mother.” I hold his pained gaze. “Our love is like acocoon,Sir. It only happens once, and the effect is irreversible.”

Months ago, I came in search of a dangerous man. I found the Devil’s prototype in a flawless dark suit. With clear-blue eyes and dark hair, an aura larger than life and a kaleidoscope of colours—I can see it today, Mum.

A man who kills brutally, fucks territorially, and hides his emotions deep within layers of smooth control. He is the Don of theCosa Nostra.Evil. Beautiful. Ruthless.

But he’s not the villain of my story.

He is my everything.

Clay

“The police are here, Boss,”Que mentions through the closed bedroom door, and I slide my gaze across to where my sweet girl, my powerful little deer, sleepily rolls from one shoulder to the other at the sound of his interruption.

She stirs further. Her tiny white kitten—Luna—paws around the bed, swatting at the rippling sheets.

I sigh, watching Fawn’s lashes feather her cheeks, her eyes batting open in slow, sleepy waves. No creature alive has ever been more perfect for a man like me.

Resilience. Survival. Strength. Innocence, wrapped into a sweet, trim, flawless figure that reminds me that pretty things can survive even in dark worlds.

Que continues through the door, and I consider firing him for waking her. I won’t. Not today, at least. “And the press is outside. Lorna is talking to Mrs Butcher.”

Mrs Butcher.

My wife.

I look back at my reflection, blue eyes like my mother’s drilling holes through me. The eyes of blue stone from a marble statue that is unpleasant to embrace.

Sweeping the black tie around my neck, I feed it down the collar of my black shirt—I suit myself in the clothes of a grieving son. A grieving family man.

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