Page 154 of Unwrapping Deviance

“Why do I smell burning?” Daniel’s voice bellows from upstairs. “Chris? Mira?”

“We’re okay!” Mira shouts back, gleaming blue eyes never wavering off my face. “Christian murdered the bacon.” She grins when I mock scowl at her.

We hear Daniel huff, “Not the bacon,” before marching back up the stairs.

Her cool fingers graze my cheek, smooths into the hollow the way Mom used to. I don’t know if Daniel has told her about that or if we’ve done it to her so often she’s picking up on it, but I lean into the touch. “I’m okay. A little sore, but...” her face glows an endearing pink. “I really liked everything you did. A lot.”

My arm tightens around, and I pull her deeper against my chest.

“Swear.”

Her chuckle is sweet, but nothing to the gentle bump of her nose against mine. “I swear you and Daniel have ruined me for all other men.”

I growl deep in my throat. “Good!”

Not sure who kissed who first, but her lips are under mine, and I’ve never felt so much peace. Every fear in my head collapses to ash. Every doubt turns to smoke. Her arms hooked tight around my neck gives no room for my dad’s voice to slink in.

“Did you think I would be upset about getting fucked senseless?” she teases when I finally allow her mouth freedom.

“More worried I scared you, or hurt you,” I confess. “That I did too much.”

She blows out a breath. “Well, I mean, you did put on quite a show. I don’t know how you’re going to top that.”

I capture her bottom lip between my teeth and bite just hard enough to make her moan. “That was nothing, brat. You have no idea the things I have planned for you.”

Her secondary moan has nothing to do with my biting. “God, you need to stop. My body thinks it’s ready for round two but...” her fingers curl in my hair and she drags me closer, her eyes hot and dark fixed on my mouth. My cock is a brick in my pants, ready to do whatever she wants. “Maybe you can kiss—”

A bang makes us both jump.

“Daniel!” Mira gasps, already struggling to hop off the counter.

I grip her in place, ears straining. The sound had come from the front of the house, not upstairs.

“Don’t move,” I tell her.

I know she’s not going to listen, but I bolt to the backdoor and slam it shut. The new locks and chains Daniel installed yesterday are snapped into place before I stalk from the kitchen.

I double checked the front locks last night before following Daniel and Mira upstairs to bed. I’d made damn sure no one could get in, and they hadn’t. The barricade is still firmly in place, keeping the outside world out.

But that only means they have us caged.

They have us exactly where they want us.

It sounds paranoid and crazy, but Daniel and I lived through the barrage of rotting vegetables, raw eggs, pig’s blood hurled at the porch. The rocks that would shatter the windows all the way up on the second floor in the dead of night.

Bangs in this house means someone wants to hurt us.

Hurt Mira.

Over my dead body.

I shove back the lace curtains and peer out at the suffocating embrace of wilderness, the smear of endless green broken by a singular path of escape.

No sign of an attack. No sign of another person. I don’t trust opening the door.

The floorboard creaks behind me and I whirl. I’m not surprised by the tiny brat standing in the kitchen doorway with a knife fisted at her side.

“Woman, I told you to stay,” I bark.

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