Page 79 of Betrayed
Belong to.
And he’s kissing me. Softly this time. Desperate. Needy.
And when he lifts me again, it’s gentle, it’s lovemaking, it’s worship.
He carries me to the bed and enters me slowly this time. Deep. Intentional. He kisses away the tears, the fear, the guilt. He’s careful with me. His voice murmurs words about how strong I am, how brave, how beautiful.
I want the white picket fence.
And a vow that binds us for life.
I want my happily ever after.
And I’ve known since I met him, I want it with him.
And I’m terrified that would mean leaving Ryan and Cass behind.
When I come this time, it’s like breaking apart and being rebuilt all at once.
And when he follows—growling my name into the curve of my neck—it feels like there’s hope we might figure out a way to be together after all?—
Forever.
But hope can be as fleeting as sunlight over the moor.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Lucian
It’s been a slow few days. Erin is desperately eager to see her sister and Ryan, to get answers, to understand what her future holds. And right now, I don’t have all the answers she needs.
Wanting some air, I step onto the porch with my jaw clenched and arms crossed. A red licorice whip dangles from the corner of my mouth—one from her stash of sweets—Erin’s attempt to get me to quit smoking.
Bayne’s sending us an escort. Today, we go back to New York.
From there?
Like I said. I don’t have all the answers.
And believe me, with the constant texts and calls from Cass and the questions from Erin, I’d love to answer them.
Blaze and I have agreed. We will do as the family needs. We will go where they tell us to go.
And we will grow. We will get stronger. And when we’re ready?
We’re taking back New York.
We’re rebuilding the Village.
Even if it takes a hundred years.
At least I’ve been able to give Erin closure with Gretchen. Freya came through, and both Gretchen and Mary are safe. Freya is helping them establish a new life, somewhere no one can find them.
Erin was thrilled when I told her.
I hear the rumble of a sizable car engine approaching Red Shutters before I see it, then it comes into view. A heavy, army-green classic Jeep creeps down the driveway. It’s one of Raphael’s men. Bayne was sending someone to take us to the airport.
The Jeep rolls to a stop in front of the cottage. I expect some young soldier type. Bayne’s version of ‘muscle.’ But then the driver’s door opens.
