Page 95 of Unrequited
“You fucking heard me,” he barks. “Staythere!”
He’s never raised his voice at me, not like this. I stare, wide-eyed. I’ve never seen him like this.
Controlled. Fierce. Terrifying in his love.
“Yes, sir,” I whisper.
And then pulls on boxers like it’s nothing. I don’t even know how he moves so fast.
A beat later, he’s yanking open the drawer beside the bed, pulling out the biggest fucking gun I’ve ever seen, and I know guns. Thanks to my brothers, thanks to Rafail Kopolov, I’ve seen an arsenal.
A semi-automatic. Sleek. Merciless. He loads it, cocks it, then cradles it like an extension of his own arm. Then he’s out, moving fast, and locks the door behind him. One click, two clicks, three. Then I hear it, a mechanical hum. Bars slam down over the windows.
He’s locked me behind a goddamn fortress.
And now I’m wide awake. I sit straight up in bed. My heart is racing, every nerve screaming. The adrenaline surges so fast I feel like I might throw up.
I pull the blankets up to cover my body, like I can hide from whatever’s coming. Who's out there? Has my family come to claim me? Has his? Or worse, an enemy?
Then I hear him. His voice, sharp as a blade.
“Who the fuck’s there?”
The front door groans open.
Another loud noise.
A voice, rough, distant.
Then silence. Nothing else.
It’s killing me. Is he okay?
I glance around the room and see the drawer. I need something. I need to be ready.
There.
He left me a weapon, a gesture that says everything without saying it. Trust. Preparation. Protection.
I reach for it and check it. It’s loaded, and the safety’s off.
This one isn’t for warnings; this is meant to kill.
I know what it does. I’ve seen what these bullets do to a man. They tear through flesh and twist organs into pulp. I hold it steady. My hands might be small, but thanks to Rafail, I know exactly what the fuck I’m doing.
I wait. Minutes crawl by. More voices. Another minute. Still, nothing.
His cum is still leaking from me, slick between my thighs and soaking the sheets beneath me. My breasts are red, marked by him. Every touch still lingers. The way he took me, there was no doubt. No question.
He does love me. He proved it. Every inch of him. Every kiss. Every growl and every gentle press.
I have to trust him now.
My sweet, wild man.
My beautiful, broken monster.
Hehasto be okay.
