Page 140 of Lost Paradise

“Is it?” I stare at him searchingly.

“You realize I can get my kicks elsewhere,” he says, a challenging glint in his eyes.

I narrow my brows at him, my voice steady but firm. “Other women are not an option in this relationshipwith me.”

He grins, the kind of grin that both infuriates and thrills me. “I admire your possessiveness.”

“I mean it,” I retort, my eyes locking onto his with unwavering intensity.

He moves forward, crawling over me with a predatory grace until he’s just inches from my face. I can smell my period on him, mixed with his usual intoxicating scent that stirs something primal within me. How does he still smell so good? None of us have used deodorant in weeks. How the fuck does this man smell so wildly good?

“I have no interest in any other pussy but yours,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin. “Even if you were to stop bleeding forever or decided that you wanted to transition into a male and call yourself Evan, I still would never stray from you. I love you, and I’ve never loved another being in my life. Even Bessie comes second to you. So get it into your pretty skull that you own me—my soul, my brain, my spirit, my body. I will be your property until I die. I’d cut off my toe and give it to you so you can carry it in your pocket, just to have a piece of me in your possession. I’m a psychopath with psychopathic tendencies. But I’m yours, Wildcat. Yours to have and control.”

His words leave me speechless.

To be honest, I should run.

But all puns intended, that ship has sailed because I’ve utterly fallen in love with Dracula.

Jack doesn’t pull back; he stays where he is, searching my face with an intensity that makes my heart pound. I finally swallow the rock I didn’t know was lodged in my throat and find my voice.

“You’re crazy,” I whisper, my voice trembling but firm. “But you’re my kind of crazy. And I love you too, you psycho.”

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face as he leans in, his lips brushing against mine. “Then it’s settled,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Forever.”

I nod, my heart racing, my body responding to the nearness of him, and I feel a mix of fear and exhilaration.

He pushes back and gets up to leave.

“Where are you going?” I ask, yanking on his arm to keep him from leaving. There's a hint of desperation in my voice that I can't entirely hide.

He looks at me, confused. “What’s wrong?”

“I still have cramps,” I blurt out, my voice softer, almost shy.

His confusion turns into a slow, knowing smile. “Ah, I see,” he says, his tone teasing. “So, you need me for more than just emotional support, huh?”

“Don’t be smug,” I mutter, but I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “I just... I need you.”

His eyes soften, and he sits back down, pulling me into his arms. “You don’t have to ask twice, Wildcat,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my temple. “I’m here for whatever you need. Always.”

I relax against him, the warmth of his body easing the tension I didn’t realize I had. “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

He chuckles softly. “Anything for you, luv. Now, let’s see what we can do about those cramps.” He rolls me over, and his hands move to massage my lower back.

“Wait, what?” I twist myself around, and Jack has a sly grin on his face.

He wiggles his fingers at me. “I’m great with my hands. Magic fingers!”

“Oh wow, he can crack a joke!” I say sarcastically. “Now hear this, goth boy, either you get between my legs and go down on me like you're at a goddamn Dracula banquet, or you can sleep with the fucking fish for all I care!”

He rolls his head back and laughs loud and deep, and I swear I’ve never seen or heard him laugh so hard. His usually broody expression breaks into a genuine, almost joyous look. It's as if a dam has burst, and for a moment, the weight he always seems to carry is lifted.

“I’ve never heard you laugh like that,” I say, a bit in awe, watching the transformation in his face.

He’s still chuckling as he moves into position. “You, my Wildcat, are something else,” he murmurs, his eyes twinkling with amusement and affection. “But I love your style.”

I feel a rush of warmth at his words, and as he lowers himself between my legs, his earlier laughter still echoes in my ears, a strange yet comforting sound. The contrast between his dark demeanor and the lightness of his laugh is startling and wonderful.

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