Page 61 of The Reaper's Vow
The line goes dead before I can respond. I toss the phone onto the console.
Karina whimpers in her sleep, her body tensing as another nightmare grips her.
I pull over at the next wide spot in the road, gravel crunching under the tires as I bring the car to a stop. My hands shake as I reach for her, unable to watch her suffer through whatever hell her subconscious has conjured.
“Wake up, kitten.”
Her eyes snap open, wild and unfocused. For a moment, she doesn’t recognize me, her body coiled to fight or flee. Then the bond pulses between us, and recognition floods her features.
“Damien?”
“I'm here.” I cup her face in my hands, thumbs stroking across her cheekbones. “You're safe.”
She melts into my touch, a soft sob escaping her lips. “I keep seeing them.”
“Tell me about it,” I declare, pulling her closer until our foreheads touch. Her tears wet my fingers as I cradle her face. “Tell me what you see.”
“Their hands.” She shudders against me. “I can still feel them grabbing me, trying to put that collar on me. And Elias—there was so much blood?—”
“Elias is alive,” I tell her, relief washing through me when her body sags against mine. “I just spoke to him. He's hurt but safe.”
She nods against my palm, her breath coming in shaky gasps that spark something raw and feral inside me. My wolf prowls closer to the surface, desperate to comfort her.
“I thought I'd never see you again,” she whispers, her fingers digging into my wrists as if to anchor herself to something solid. “I thought they'd take me before you could?—”
I don’t let her finish.I can’t.The thought of her slipping through my fingers—of those fuckers dragging her away, touching what’s mine—detonates the last thread of restraint I have left.
My mouth crashes down on hers drinking in her gasp like it belongs to me.
Then she breaks—melts into me with a soft, sinful moan that nearly brings me to my knees. Her lips part for me, and I take everything. My tongue sweeps into her mouth, desperate and hungry, tasting her submission.
I drag her across the console without finesse, needing her closer, needing her on me. She lands on my lap with a whimper that shreds the last of my humanity. My hands roam without hesitation, over her hips, up her sides, palming the swell of her breast through her thin shirt. I squeeze hard enough to make her gasp, to remind her whose hands she’s in.
“Mine,” I growl against her mouth. “You fucking belong to me.”
Her fingers tangle in my hair, nails scraping my scalp, and she arches into me like she needs this just as badly. Like she wants to be taken. Marked. Owned.
I slip my hand beneath her shirt, dragging it up until my palm meets bare skin. Her nipple is already tight, begging for my attention. I pinch it between my fingers, and she moans into my mouth, louder this time, shameless.
My cock throbs beneath her, straining against my jeans. She shifts her hips, and I nearly lose it, a low, guttural sound tearing from my throat.
“I should throw you in the backseat and remind you exactly what that mark on your neck means,” I rasp, nipping at her lower lip hard enough to sting. “But not here. Not where anyone could take you from me again.”
She shivers in my arms, her eyes heavy-lidded and lips kiss-swollen, and for a moment I forget about everything else—the danger, the blood, the war waiting just beyond the tree line.
Right now, all I know is her.
And I will tear apart the fucking world before I let anyone else touch her again.
“You deserve better than the front seat of a car on the side of a mountain road.” I brush my thumb across her swollen lips, marveling at how soft they are despite everything she’s been through tonight. “Because when I make you mine, it won't be while we're running for our lives.”
Her breath catches, but she doesn’t pull away. Her body is still pressed against mine, warm and trembling, and all I want is to bury myself in her until the rest of the world disappears. But I don’t. Not yet.
Instead, I let my touch linger just a moment longer—thumb trailing down her throat to where her pulse thrums wild beneath skin that tastes like smoke and defiance. She tilts her head, exposing her neck in the smallest, most instinctive show of trust I’ve ever seen. My wolf growls his approval, but I force myself to still.
Not here. Not like this.
“I’ll make it right. You have my word.”
