Page 83 of Caged in Desire
“I’m yours, I love you, I’m safe, and I’m not going anywhere. Let go for me, Henry. Come for me, please,” I whisper, and with a groan, he does.
He peppers kisses across my chest, then up my neck to my lips. After a moment, he gently pulls out of me, pulling me even closer and banding his arms around me like he’s never going to let me go.
“You don’t have to,” I say. “You never have to let me go, Henry. Actually, I’d say you’re stuck with me. Legally. I have the paperwork.”
With a watery chuckle, he pulls back to look at me. “I didn’t intend to say that out loud.”
Gazing into each other’s eyes, eventually we both realize the room is silent. He peeks over my shoulder, then looks at me again.
“Dead.”
Shrugging, I can’t find anything nice to say. “Good riddance.”
One more kiss and I’m up, being carried into the adjacent room where a bag has towels and a change of clothes for each of us. Giggling, the absurdity of the situation hits me all at once. Henry turns to look at me with a bemused expression, which just makes me laugh harder.
“I’m sorry, it’s just…” I wheeze. “What do you think pushed her over the edge? The breeding talk or when you…when you…” I can’t breathe, I’m laughing so hard. “When you put it in my ass!”
Sighing, he pulls a sweatshirt over my head before helping me into the pants and putting on my socks and shoes. I’ve rendered him speechless. But now that this is over, I do have one question.
“What’s going to happen to all this? Pretty sure we just left quite a bit of DNA evidence all over this crime scene,” I say, a little nervous now that I’ve said it out loud.
Henry finishes dressing himself and picks me up again.
“Well, darling, this is the type of thing your family excels at. Your father will arrange for a suicide-esque disposal of Linda, we’ll work with authorities to ensure families of her other victims know the truth and get closure, and Sasha will probably torch this place, if I had to guess,” he says matter-of-factly.
I blink, thinking again that I really don’t know too much about what the Taranov empire is about, before smiling. It’s not my problem, and I don’t have to worry about any of that. I have a husband,a Daddy,and I get to go home to my house, which is now safe, and spend time with my family, which keeps growing.
“Sounds perfect,” I say, because it does. “Let’s gohome.”
Epilogue 1
If I thought I was prepared for Valentine’s Day as the object of Henry Sinclair’s affection, I was sorely mistaken. We’ve spent most of the morning wrapped up in each other, with breakfast in bed quickly devolving into more sordid activities involving pancake syrup, followed by a shower to rinse away the stickiness. This, obviously, also devolved quickly into debauchery. We finally stopped for brunch before collapsing lazily back into bed.
Sighing, I stretch myself out like a Kat who’s got the cream, and honestly, that’s how I feel lately. Although we’ve just passed our four-month anniversary, it feels like we’ve been through at least a year’s worth of married life. Henry has proven himself to be my perfect partner again and again, and I still can’t believe that this beast of a man who would kill for me is also such a big softy, walking toward me now with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate.
“Don’t you dare think of doing anything sexual at all with the whipped cream on these drinks, mister. I need at least an hour break before you try anything again,” I tease, accepting the quickkiss I’m given as he sits down with me on the edge of the bed. At some point, he’s dressed himself in his usual outdoorsman attire, and I consider that I might be ready to go again in thirty minutes.
With a quirk of one eyebrow, he sets a timer on his phone for one hour and then winks at me. I’ve told him that his winks should be outlawed for inciting sexual eruptions, which of course means he now winks at me all the time. Sipping our hot chocolate, he finishes first and rubs my feet while we enjoy the quiet of the afternoon.
“Thank you for not making me leave the house for Valentine’s Day. Or much at all, lately. I promise I’ll be ready soon—”
“Katarina.” He interrupts. “We will continue onwards at a pace dictated by you and your therapist, darling. I promise you I am not in any rush. You know exactly where I stand on this.”
And I do. When we returned home after everything happened, I had a…minor breakdown, you might say. I became obsessed with security, making Henry show me all the cameras, all the redundant backup cameras, all the dummy cameras, and the software that would fool even the most experienced hacker. We hired full-time staff to monitor them and the alarm system, and our suite of rooms has its own code that changes regularly, so that if a door opens, I know it can only be Henry.
I knew deep down that I was going slightly overboard, but I didn’t think it was irrational. Henry agreed, but when I started refusing to leave the estate, then the suite, he suggested perhaps we should talk to someone. That’s how Dr. Benedict came into our lives. She specializes in post-traumatic stress disorder after home invasions and has helped me tremendously. Apparently, my upbringing put me at very high risk of being negatively affected by the attack, and I attribute an unhealthy amount of comfort to maintaining my own space, since it’s all I’ve ever had any control over. I’ve recently been able to visit Margotand Sloane, which was especially nice, considering I don’t think Margot will make it much longer carrying the twins.
Smiling at Henry, I agree.
“Yes, I do know where you stand,” I say quietly, which is the truth. He doesn’t begrudge me our time at home. In fact, he seems to relish it. But equally, he refuses to let me sink in on myself and become a hermit. This is why he and Dr. Benedict have me following a plan to systematically get out more and more. But I haven’t been ready to leave our little reclaimed love nest to travel or vacation extensively yet, and he’s been patient with me.
Giving me a soft smile, he pulls me to my feet and sets my empty mug on my nightstand.
“Let’s go for a walk and stretch our legs after our lazy morning. Maybe fuck against a tree,” he says, kissing my temple. “I’ll go grab a picnic basket with some snacks and a blanket.”
As we wander farther from the house, I notice that we’re taking a familiar route, winding around toward the greenhouse. I tense slightly, not really wanting to see it, and Henry stops, blocking my path.
“I know it doesn’t hold fond memories for you right now,” he says quietly, rubbing my upper arms in a very soothing massage. “But I’ve done some renovations, and it doesn’t look quite the same as it did before. Will you take a look at it and see how different it is? If you don’t like the energy or you don’t want to go in, we don’t have to.”
