Page 137 of Lost Paradise

As he speaks, I feel the heaviness of his reality sinking in, the darkness of his world contrasting sharply with the tenderness I’ve seen in him. Astro’s nothing like the bastard his father is.

"Hmm, sounds a lot like my world, well, except the criminal aspect. But then again, wealth isn’t accumulated through honesty. I mean, it’s a pretty fine line between the two. And it gets blurrier the wealthier you are.”

He chuckles softly, a hint of resignation in his smile. “Maybe, but I’m not going back.”

I stare at him, searching his face for any sign of uncertainty. “No?”

“Well, I haven’t figured it out yet after we get rescued. But I can’t go back. Maybe I’ll follow you.”

“You served time in the US. I hardly doubt they’ll let you back in the country,” I remind him gently.

He brushes his hand through my hair, his touch surprisingly tender. “I’ll find a way. Let me worry about it.”

“How chauvinistic of you,” I tease, attempting to lighten the mood.

Astro’s initial response is a warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement. But as I continue to banterplayfully, his expression shifts unexpectedly. The light in his eyes dims, replaced by a dark intensity that catches me off guard.

“You don’t really think I have plans of giving you up, Princess?” His voice is low, each word carrying a weight of seriousness that sends a ripple of tension through the air. “You’ve imprinted not just on my heart but my soul. You’re mine. There isn’t a creature on this planet that can stop me from being with you. Got it?”

His words hang in the air, lingering with a possessiveness that makes my heart skip a beat. I’ve seen Astro’s protective side before, but this is different. It’s a declaration of ownership, tinged with a primal need to claim and protect.

Caught in the intensity of his gaze, I feel a mixture of emotions—surprise, awe, and a strange exhilaration. This is Astro laid bare, revealing a depth of emotion and commitment that goes beyond mere words. It’s as if, in this moment, he’s stripping away any pretense or reservation, exposing his raw and unfiltered truth.

He chuckles softly, a contrast to the seriousness moments ago, but the underlying intensity remains. “Come on,” he says gently, breaking the tension as he gathers my clothes and blankets. “This can wait. You need to get out of the water and rest for a while.”

“I don’t have any clean clothes, and I don’t want to parade in blood-stained ones,” I admit, my voice tinged with embarrassment.

Astro pauses, his expression thoughtful as he considers my predicament. Without a moment's hesitation, he releases me and swiftly removes his shorts, handing them to me. I hesitate, noticing they're dripping wet from the water.

“I know they’re wet, but there are no blood stains on them, just stains from everything else. You can wrap a towel around yourself once we get back to camp,” he suggests, his tone practical yet reassuring.

“But I’ll dirty these too,” I protest softly.

“And I’ll wash them like the rest of the stuff here. Plus, blood doesn’t exactly eek me like it does for you,” he replies calmly, his gaze steady.

I roll my eyes playfully as I accept his shorts and slip them on. “Eek? Does Astro Doukas, big gangster guy, use words likeeek?” I tease, giving him a sly smile.

“Babe, in England, we say ‘firm,’ not ‘gang’ or ‘gangster.’ Just ‘firm member,’” he corrects with a smirk.

“Tomayto, tomahto. It’s all the same shit,” I retort with agrin.

He starts to say something, then stops himself, chuckling softly. “Come on then,” he says, offering me his hand. Together, we climb out of the water and make our way back to camp.

I can’t help but feel a sense of security in Astro’s presence. There’s no doubt now—he’s not just a man who would fight for me; he’s a man who would defy the world for our bond. And in that realization, I find a strange comfort amidst the uncertainty of our circumstances.

Astro guides me to our makeshift sleeping area. I take off his shorts, and he gives me one of the towels hanging in the breeze over the tree branches we use to dry clothes and stuff.

The warmth of his touch and the solidity of his presence make me feel secure despite my awkward situation. Once I’m settled, he wraps another blanket around me, his eyes filled with concern and understanding, his brows furrowed slightly as he tries to ease my discomfort.

"Just rest for a bit," he murmurs, his voice soothing. "I'll be right back."

As I lie down, time passes, and exhaustion washes over me, but my thoughts are interrupted when the guys approach. Foster, Zane, Byron, Jack, and Astro stand by the entrance of the hut, looking a bit sheepish but determined.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing’s wrong, Wildcat.”

"We, uh, brought you something," Zane says, holding out a bundle of cloth strips. His eyes flicker with uncertainty, but his tone is earnest. "We cut up all the sleeves of our shirts and jackets and cleaned them. The fabric is soft enough not to chaff your skin. You can use them as period pads. And we’ve washed your panties. They’re drying, so you can use them to hold the pads in place."

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