Fifteen

BEGINNINGS

I STARED AT THE GRAY INDUSTRIAL clock, mounted on the gray wall, in the gray, dismal Savannah Police Department. The second hand ticked silently, reminding me with its sharp movements how long it had been since I’d seen Nate. Three hours, twenty-seven minutes, and forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty seconds.

I’d given my account of what happened in the bar, and sixteen years prior, twice. Once to Bo and once to a detective I’d never met. Bo said he was too personally involved to take the lead on the investigation, and he was a homicide detective, so a Detective Hilliard had been assigned. The wheels of justice turned slowly though, even in a small city like Savannah. I’d been separated from the girls. From Nate. Even Bo after he’d handed me off to Hilliard. I didn’t even know if the girls were still in the building. And Nate? He’d been hauled off by a scowling Devin after Bo had cuffed him at the Tap Room. Bo had stayed with me, then escorted me to a waiting police cruiser within minutes of Dracul being taken away by ambulance. But I never saw Nate again.

He’d withdrawn from me when I tried to approach him after he’d been cuffed. His face had been as blank and emotionless as I’d ever seen it, and it unnerved me. Something was wrong with him. I didn’t need a degree in psychology to understand that attacking Basil Dracul must have brought up his past. What I didn’t understand was the distance. The indifference toward me after Bo cuffed him. He’d only spoken to me once before we were separated. He’d mumbled, “Poppy, I’m so fuckin’ sorry,” before Bo walked him down the hall. But I’d been too scared of what would happen to him at the time to understand the significance. He’d beaten Dracul bloody, and I was terrified they would lock him up. Afraid he’d lose everything he worked so hard for because of me. I should have kept my mouth shut when I realized who Dracul was. But the rush of memories swept away any good sense I had. The words had just spilled out of my mouth like always—unchecked.

Even at eight years of age, my appetite for reading was ferocious. I was an early bloomer. I began reading at five and made my way to chapter books at the age of six. So before that horrible night so long ago, I’d been obsessed with all things vampire and werewolf like most kids my age. Thanks to the internet, I knew vampires were based on Vlad the Impaler aka Vlad Dracul, Voivode of Wallachia. When I’d heard my aunt call the dragon Dracula and then laugh about his name, it had caught my attention through the thin walls of our home. The dragon had been incensed and corrected her, saying Dracul meant dragon, not vampire. When he turned his attention toward me later that night, after my aunt had passed out, I remembered biting his arm and seeing the dragon tattoo. Traumatized and scared he would kill my aunt like he threatened, I’d buried what happened behind my thick walls, and the name dragon was all that remained. Until I’d seen his tattoo sixteen years later. Then it all came rushing back like I’d been asleep and woke to the memories of a bad dream.

Nate’s apology, for what I wasn’t sure, kept repeating in a loop in my head. He’d called me Poppy. Not Kitten. He hadn’t called me Poppy in two days, and that seemed significant. Calling me Kitten was his way of showing I was important. Kitten was intimate. Poppy was just my name. I wanted to be Nate’s Kitten. Always.

The door finally opened, and Bo walked in. I stood, ready to leave. More than ready to find Nate. “Can I leave?”

He nodded. “Dracul’s been released from the hospital. He’s in custody, so you’re safe.”

“Will he stay in jail? I mean, can you prove he’s the one who abused me?”

I was surprisingly calm, considering I’d just been in Dragon’s presence for the first time in sixteen years. But my concern for Nate overshadowed every other emotion rolling through my body.

“If he hadn’t lost his cool when you recognized him, we would have had a hard time provin’ his guilt.”

I closed my eyes against the memory. Dracul had lost his cool when he realized I remembered him. He’d tried to threaten me again. Said he’d go after my friends this time if I went to the cops. Then he’d reminded me, in vivid detail, what he’d done to me before and threatened to do it again. He was a disgusting piece of humanity. One who deserved to be locked up, so he couldn’t hurt anyone again.

“Is there a chance he’ll get off?”

Bo shook his head. “Not with Knox involved. Now that we have a name, Knox’ll use his connections to dig up all this man’s sins. He’ll plead out rather than go to trial. It’s his best option.”

“I need to talk to my mo-I mean my aunt. She doesn’t know about any of this. I need to break it to her, so she can come in and confirm Dracul was at our house.”

Bo’s jaw seemed to clench at my reply. “She’s been in.”

“What?” I grabbed the back of my chair for support. “She knows?”

“We spoke with her earlier in the evening. Before we found Dracul.” He looked at his feet for a moment, and I braced. I knew I wasn’t going to like what he had to say. “Poppy, she said you were confused or dreamed it up to punish her. We brought her in after we arrested Dracul and her tune hasn’t changed. She refused to admit it could have happened. She admitted Dracul had been in her house, but still denied he abused you.”

I blinked. “I don’t . . . Does she understand what happened to me?”

Bo’s face flushed with anger. “Yeah. She knows.”

I let go of the chair and sank back into it because my knees seemed to give out. “She thinks . . .” I stopped when my stomach threatened to come up and swallowed. “She thinks I made this up?”

He nodded.

I asked again for clarification because I needed to understand. “You’re sayin’ that the woman who raised me, the one who rocked me to sleep when I had bad dreams, thinks I made this up to punish her?”

“That’s what she said.”

There were so many reactions I could have had at that moment, but instead of adrenaline pumping through my system, I felt nothing. Shirley had been my mother, but she wasn’t a good one. She’d given up her life for me, but had she really? The more I thought about it, the more I realized she’d done exactly what she’d wanted. If she’d truly wanted a family of her own, she could have found someone decent. No, she’d done exactly what she wanted. She’d gotten rip-roaring drunk when she felt like it, brought men home when it suited her, and lied to me about my father, just to hurt me for some perceived fault on his or my part. So why should I be surprised she would cover her own duplicity, now that the truth had come out. If she helped put Dracul in prison, she would be admitting her own guilt.

“Why did she even bother to help Knox if I was such an inconvenience?” I wondered out loud, surprisingly not coming apart at the seams.

“She admitted when we brought her in for questioning that she’d been in love with Knox,” Bo answered. “Thought once he put her father and brother away, you’d be a family. But one year turned into five and so on.”

“I see.” I looked at Bo and saw compassion written across his face. “Why didn’t she just demand he come to get me if she was so bitter?”

“She couldn’t. She’d chosen her side when your mother died. She had nowhere to go. If she returned to her father, she knew he’d kill her too.”

“So she was stuck with me if she wanted money to live on,” I reasoned, and coldness set in. The love I’d had for my aunt disappeared in the blink of an eye, easily replaced with indifference. I could go the rest of my life without seeing her. Not after everything she’d done. I’d rather be alone.

I waited for the panic to set in at the thought of being alone again, but it didn’t come because I wasn’t alone anymore. I had a new family. One with Sienna and my father. With Nate. With the Wallflowers and their men.

“Can I leave?” I asked, rising from my seat. I was more than ready to put the past behind me and find Nate.

“You can. Knox is waitin’ to take you home.”

Dread slammed into my gut. I knew Nate well enough to know he’d be waiting for me if he could. “Is Nate still under arrest?”

Bo cocked his head in confusion. “He was never under arrest. I only handcuffed him so he’d calm down.”

That cold hand of dread turned into an iron weight, and it lodged in my chest. “Bo, where is Nate?”

He looked over his shoulder at the door, then sighed. “He needed time.”

I couldn’t swallow past the fear threatening to choke me. “Time?”

He rolled his lips between his teeth then reached for the door and opened it. “I’ll get the girls.”

That iron weight shifted in my chest, making room for anger. “I don’t need the girls, I need Nate. Tell me where he is!” I demanded as he walked out.

I heard footsteps then rumbling whispers. I could tell they were male voices, so I rushed to the door hoping it was Nate. I found Devin and Bo huddled together like two old ladies gossiping.

“Tell me what’s goin’ on, right now.”

Devin raised his head. The look he gave me was nothing short of peeved, and he was directing all that energy at me.

“I’ll handle this,” Devin said, then clapped Bo on the shoulder.

I kept my mouth shut as he passed me and walked into the interrogation room. I followed him inside and shut the door. Then I crossed my arms and waited.

“You need to give him time,” Devin began through gritted teeth. “He’s spent his whole life tryin’ to live down what his father did. To be a better man than his father was. He denied claimin’ you, at first, because he didn’t trust he could control his anger, but he couldn’t stay away from you. After what happened tonight, he needs time. Seein’ you will only drive home what he’s lost.”

What he’s lost?

“What has he lost?” I had a bad feeling I knew, but I wasn’t sure how anyone came to that conclusion.

Devin looked confused by my question. “He lost you.”

My head jerked back as if I’d been struck and that weight in my chest turned into claws, trying to shred my heart. “Devin, help me understand this. Why does he think he’s lost me?”

Anger shrouded his face. “Because you’re afraid of him,” he answered in a biting voice. “You couldn’t have gutted a man more if you tired.”

“I’m not afraid of Nate,” I cried out.

“I saw it for myself, Poppy. It was written on your face. And Nate saw it as well. He can’t be with a woman who’s afraid of him, no matter how much she means to him.”

“You saw it written on my . . . You know what? You’re the worst detective in the history of detectives. Sherlock Holmes would be ashamed, if he were real, that you thought for one second I was afraid of Nate!” I shouted, releasing all the frustration I had over my aunt, over Dracul, and this idiotic conversation. “And he can kiss my patootie if he thinks I’ll let him walk away from me. I’m insulted. Nigh”—I raised my finger and pointed toward the ceiling for effect—“outraged either of you think I’m that . . . that. WEAK!”

The door burst open behind me, and the Wallflowers, Knox, and Bo filed into the room, looking between Devin and me.

“What’s goin’ on?” Cali asked.

Devin was glaring at me for the Sherlock insult, but I ignored him.

Afraid of Nate?

“Your boyfriend thinks I’m afraid of Nate. That him beatin’ up the dragon caused me to shudder in fear. Clearly, he doesn’t remember I have biker babe princess DNA runnin’ through my veins. Me afraid?”

Knox smiled with pride.

Cali looked baffled.

And Sienna blinked.

Then both Wallflowers laughed.

“This isn’t funny,” Devin growled.

“No, it’s not,” I agreed. “Grown men thinkin’ they know what’s goin’ on inside a woman’s head at any given moment, is hysterical.” I snorted and scoffed at the ridiculousness. The stupidity. The . . . I couldn’t think of another word, but it was all a big pile of horse manure, is what it was.

“We both saw it, Poppy,” Devin kept pushing the same worn-out line, but he appeared a tad unsure of the validity of his defense.

I sighed because men were so dang dense sometimes. “Yes, I was afraid, Devin. That much you got right. But not afraid of Nate, but for Nate. He’d just beaten a man bloody. I was terrified he would go to jail. Afraid, that after all he’d been through with his father, he’d end up losin’ everything because of me.”

“That’s not what it looked like,” he hedged, but his face had grown speculative, and he’d lost the edge of anger he’d been holding onto.

I crossed my arms and glowered at him. “Tell me, Devin, what am most I angry about now? You accusin’ me of bein’ afraid of Nate, the kindest man I know, or the fact we’re havin’ this conversation at all.”

He considered it a moment, then looked at Cali and Sienna, who both had their arms crossed in Wallflower solidarity. His mouth pulled into a devilish smile when he looked back at me. “Both.”

Well dang. He read that one right.

“Where’s Nate?” I sighed, done with this absurd conversation. “I need to set things straight.”

Devin looked at Bo. “He didn’t say where he was goin’ when he left the bar. But he needs time, Poppy. He can be stubborn sometimes. If you try to explain before he’s had time to calm down, he might not listen to you.”

Anxiety sank its teeth into me for the first time since I’d left the bar, making it hard to breathe. “Are you sayin’ that even if I tell him I’m not afraid of him, he still might walk away from me?”

He didn’t beat around the bush. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m sayin’. He needs time, or he won’t listen. Not after his mother was terrorized by his father. There is no greater sin to Nate Jacobs than a woman bein’ afraid of the one person she should trust with her whole heart.”

_______________

I took Devin’s advice, against my better judgment, and agreed to wait until morning to track down Nate. Knox dropped me off close to midnight, and I climbed the stairs like a dead man walking. I knew I’d never sleep, so I went back to the sketch I’d been working on the night Nate and I made love the first time . . . was it just the day before? So much had happened in a short amount of time. Three days ago, I had no father, no sister, and no boyfriend. As the sun threatened to rise on my last day of vacation, I had all three. Even if Nate didn’t know it yet.

I blew across the paper, scattering the loose charcoal to the floor, then sat back and studied Nate’s face. Just looking at him made my heart hurt. He’d been through so much. Survived hell, only to better himself, and now I was the cause of more pain. After everything he’d done for me, I’d still managed to send him packing. I didn’t deserve him—but I was keeping him—even if I had to beat him senseless until he listened to me.

His brown eyes stared back at me with intensity, reminding me of when he vowed he would fix me. Well, I’d fix him too. When I was done with him, he’d never doubt again that I trusted him or felt an ounce of fear when he was near.

In the distance, I could hear a motorcycle racing up the street, so I stopped critiquing my sketch and turned my head toward my front door. Jumping from my drafting stool, I ran to the window and looked out on the dark Savannah night. A live oak blocked most of my sight, so I moved to the next window, hoping for a better view. I held my breath while I listened.

Was it Nate?

As it drew closer, I recognized the engine. Harleys had a distinct sound to them, but there was something about Nate’s that set it apart. It was deeper. Richer sounding when he shifted through the gears. I would know it anywhere.

It slowed a block from my apartment and turned off. Was he watching me? I looked around my apartment. Every light was burning. I’d turned them on to chase away the darkness, but also as a symbolic candle in the window for Nate to follow. If he were watching me, he’d know I was up.

Not hesitating a moment longer, I opened my front door and stepped out onto the landing, moving to the railing. I cursed the dang live oak for providing so much coverage from the road. It was doubtful he could see me. I searched the darkness a block up, trying to find him in the shadows, but it was pointless. He was too well hidden. Moments later, his big engine thundered to life, and my heart dropped. He was leaving. Not caring I was only wearing a T-shirt and panties, I hit the stairs running. I’d jump in front of his bike if I had to, to get him to stop.

I’d only made it to the second landing when his bike shot past my building. I screamed his name loud enough to wake the dead in the Civil War cemetery across the street, but he couldn’t hear me over his engine. Left without options, I kept going down the stairs.

Historic Savannah was set up in short blocks, no more than a tenth of a mile long. Townhomes and smaller hotels took up most of the space, with alleys and smaller streets running parallel with the main roads. Only two square miles made up the whole downtown area, with park-like squares interrupting the flow of traffic, leaving only a few streets that would take him straight back to the river. I knew if he were headed back to his apartment, he’d take a left on Habersham two streets up to avoid the squares. So I hit the pavement in my bare feet and ran for all I was worth, not stopping, even when I stepped on something sharp. My arms were pumping fast as I rounded the corner on York a half block up and watched to see if he sped past. Less than a second later, he shot across York, heading up Habersham. He was headed home.

He’d come to check on me, even though he thought we were through. I had to get to him. My car was still parked near River Street. I’d never picked it up after walking Gertie, so I had no other options. I should have turned around for shoes, but I had an irrational fear that if I didn’t get to him now, it would be too late. He’d hunted me down in Tybee when I’d run from him. He’d sent me a text when I’d panicked and gone to the mall to sort my head out, proving time and again he was a man of action. But I’d listened to Devin and left him alone because I thought Devin knew best, rather than going with my gut and hunting him down like he would have done for me. How did giving him space show him I wasn’t afraid of him? When you loved someone, you showed them by chasing them to Tybee. By standing beside them while they fought their demons. By being patient while they overcame their fear of being touched. Everything Nate had done the past few days was because he cared. I’d sat at home and done nothing, which only reinforced his belief I was scared. He’d been alone for hours with his demons, and I’d gone home and waited for the sun to rise instead of hunting him down like he would have done for me.

Tears streaked down my face while I ran through the deserted streets of Historic Savannah. My feet burned with cuts, as well as my thigh muscles, as I pushed through the pain. Jacobs’ Ladder was less than a half-mile as the crow flies from my apartment. I could make it in less than ten minutes with the streets clear.

The city was too quiet, the shadows filled with ghosts as I raced through the night. But fear for another reason pushed my legs forward. I couldn’t lose Nate. Wouldn’t lose him. He’d become the most important person in my life practically overnight.

The humid air, thick with the scents of the river, clung to me as I started to cross Bay Street. A lone car was traveling east when I crossed the last road before the river, slamming on their brakes mere feet from hitting me. I was startled by the noise and tumbled to the asphalt, scraping my hands and knees when I hit. I got to my feet instantly and kept going until I hit the grassy knoll in front of the Cotton Exchange. Without looking back or apologizing to the driver, I headed for the cobblestone-covered ramp that would take me down to the river. Fifty feet in, a voice hollered at me from an alley. I jerked my head around and managed to twist my ankle on the uneven surface as I made my way down. The vagrant swayed, beer in hand, but I ignored him. I waved him off and rounded the corner onto River Street.

I made the final block to Nate’s apartment on a wing and a prayer. His bike was parked next to his side door, the engine putting off heat from his recent trip. Out of breath, I limped to his door and raised my hand to pound. Music was pouring out from under the door, but the lights were off. He was inside, in the dark, with nothing but music to keep him company.

My tears ran faster at the image.

Leaning my back against the door, I listened while I caught my breath. Shinedown’s cover of “Simple Man” was playing. It was the same song I was listening to when we made love the first time. The same song I’d set as my ringtone for Nate, so I’d never forget what it felt like to be held by him, and he was tormenting himself with the song. I had to get inside.

Rounding on the door, I pounded for all I was worth. I waited, but nothing happened. Either he couldn’t hear me over the music, or he refused to get up. As loud as the music was, I figured it was the former, so I tried the doorknob while I continued to pound. It turned easily, so I pushed the door open. Low light filtered inside from a streetlight up above at the Cotton Exchange, so I could see shapes inside his apartment. I scanned the room and found Nate sitting in a chair. His head was tilted back, his eyes closed. He was raising a tumbler of amber-colored liquid to his mouth with one hand, and petting Gertrude with the other while she snored on the floor next to his chair.

I drank in what I could see of him in the dark corner. The breadth of his wide shoulders, his narrow waist, the massive arm muscles that flexed as he raised his drink. Everything about him was breathtaking, but what I wanted to see most of all were his eyes. He couldn’t hide from me when his eyes were open. They were too expressive.

I moved through the dark to his stereo, following the green digital bars dancing with the beat, and hit the off button. I expected him to open his eyes and look at me, but he didn’t even flinch. Guess I knew the answer to whether he heard me or not.

“You shouldn’t be out this time of night by yourself.” His words were growled.

“You shouldn’t be drinkin’ and drivin’,” I replied, positive this wasn’t his first glass.

He answered by taking another sip.

“We need to talk.” I started to head to a lamp so I could see him, but he broke the silence with a dead voice.

“I was six the first time he hit me,” Nate said without pause, his answer to us needing to talk. My hand came up to cover a gasp. “I idolized my father when I was six. I didn’t know any better. The first time he hit me it was as if someone had died. My childhood illusions were shattered that day.”

Hard as I tried to hold it back, a tiny sob escaped, and he turned to look at me. I was standing in the shadows so he couldn’t see me well. I started to move toward him, but he turned his head away from me and closed his eyes again. “I don’t need your pity any more than you needed mine.”

Oh God, I was mucking this up.

“I don’t feel pity,” I said quickly, trying to ease his mind. “Nate, I’m here to tell you—”

“I know why you’re here and it won’t work.”

“I don’t think you understand—”

“I was ten, the first time I hit him back,” he continued, ignoring me. “It wasn’t until I was thirteen that he truly felt the sting of my fist.”

He was feeding the bad wolf like his mother said he would, so I lowered myself to the floor and sat, unwilling to move closer for fear he’d stop talking. He needed to get this out. I just prayed I’d know when to stop him and feed the good wolf. The happy, joyful, peaceful wolf.

“By fifteen I was two inches taller than him. He stopped takin’ potshots at me once I was bigger, but my mother would pay if I mouthed off. So I kept my mouth shut. My mother, as you know, is a free spirit just like you. My father tried to suppress her beauty; tried to keep it all to himself.”

He raised his glass again and took another drink. It was killing me to just sit there, but this was his time to purge the filth from his head, and I had to let him.

“You can’t hold back that kind of spirit. That wildness like you possess. It’s like tryin’ to smother the light of a star. It’ll seep around the edges until all that beauty breaks free.” He raised a hand to his face and pinched his nose. “So he tried to beat it back, so no one else would see it.”

I knew if I tried to comment, I’d lose my battle to keep from crying out loud, so I nodded when appropriate and attempted to keep my sobbing to a whisper. He lived with these images daily; I could live with them long enough for him to lance his wound so it could heal.

“She’d baked me a cake.” The words were wrenched from his gut, the pain palatable. “It was just a fuckin’ cake for my sixteenth birthday, but he was pissed off for no other reason than she showed me attention.”

Both my hands came up to cover my mouth, to stop my reaction. Was he saying he’d beaten his father nearly to death on his birthday? Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

“He couldn’t handle how close we were. Couldn’t handle anyone but him havin’ her affection. He said he’d had a hard day at work and didn’t need to come home to a loud house. My mother shushed him for bein’ a dick on my birthday, and the next thing I knew he was beatin’ her.” He lifted his eyes to where I was sitting. “So I stopped him.”

And he died three days later.

“I’m glad you did,” I answered immediately. “I hate that you’re carryin’ around the weight of that day, but I’m not sorry he’s gone.”

Nate didn’t respond, he’d leaned his head back again. It was time to feed the good wolf.

“Nate, you’re not your father.”

“Yeah, I am, Poppy. You saw that for yourself tonight.”

Still Poppy. Not Kitten.

“Nate, listen to me. I’m not afraid—”

“—You should go. I’ll walk you to your car.”

He rose from his chair and turned on the lamp. After being in the dark so long, it blinded me. I held up my hand to block out the light, ready to do battle, but he turned and away without looking at me.

“Nate, I’m not leavin’ until you listen to me. You don’t get to end the best thing that’s ever happened to me because you’re too stubborn to hear the truth. You saved me tonight. The only thing that scared me was the thought of losin’ you because you were in jail. I was scared, yes. But not of you. Never of you.”

He finally turned to look at me, his eyes were dead, emotionless, and he stopped cold. His face registered shock at my appearance. I had no doubt I looked a mess.

He took a step forward, scowling as he raked my body from head to toe, and I saw his anger spike. I raised my hand to stop him, not about to let him throw me out without saying my piece.

“You know I died a little that night. Dragon took a lot from me, including my self-esteem. I was scared for years. Scared to let anyone in. I didn’t think I’d ever heal, ever feel clean again. I pretended for years to be normal. That I was like everyone else. I hid my panic attacks and shame from the world. Then you stormed into my life and forced me to face my demons. All of them. You made me feel beautiful. Wanted. Worthy.”

“Poppy—”

“I don’t freeze when you touch me,” I cried out desperately. “I crave your touch. I miss the scent of your skin when you’re gone. I can’t get close enough to you. I want to burrow inside you, so you’re always with me . . . Drown in you.”

His brown eyes darkened black as pitch, and his nostrils flared. “Jesus, Kitten—” It was guttural and raw with emotion, but I cut him off.

“You’re the best man I know, Nate. You’re nothin’ like him. Because of you, I’m free. But none of it means anything unless I still have you.” I swallowed hard and continued, “Don’t you understand? I could never be afraid of you because you’re the one who saved me from the darkness. Saved my life. I trust you, Nate, with my whole heart. With everything I am. I-I love you.”

I wanted Nate to know I loved him before he made his decision, praying it would make a difference.

He seemed stunned by my admission at first, then his face flashed with emotion, and he raised his hand and crooked his finger at me. “Get the fuck over here.”

I moved immediately at his command. He crushed me into his body the moment I was in reach. I buried my face in his chest, then burst into tears, praying this wouldn’t be the last time he held me close. “I swear I’m not afraid of you,” I stated, holding onto him tighter. “Please don’t make me leave, my feet hurt.”

Nate stiffened, then looked down at my feet and cursed under his breath, picking me up instantly. He carried me through his bedroom, setting me on the bathroom counter, then he turned on his tub, adding bubbles to the water. “What the hell happened to you?” he rumbled, lifting up one of my feet to inspect.

“I didn’t have my car, so I chased you here on foot.”

He looked up at me in shock. “You ran all the way here without shoes. In nothin’ but a fuckin’ T-shirt?” His words sounded like a question, but his tone said I was in big trouble.

“I had to get to you,” I defended. “Devin told me to wait until mornin’, but I couldn’t let you think for one more minute that I’d ever been afraid of you.” I reached up and placed my hand on his jaw. I felt the muscle tense underneath my hand when I ran my thumb across his lips. “Please, Nate. Please don’t walk away from us. You promised me there’d be a happily ever after.”

His eyes softened, and his attention shot to a tear trailing down my cheek. Raising a hand, he brushed it away tenderly while I waited for his answer. “You’re wrong, you know. I am like my father,” he whispered. “He couldn’t walk away from the woman he loved either.”

My breath caught, and I hiccupped a sob.

Was he saying he loved me?

“So y-you won’t leave me?”

He answered by cupping my face with his strong hands and covering my mouth with his. He kissed me slowly at first, tasting my lips, then it grew hard and hungry. Before I knew what was happening, he’d stripped us both naked, wrapped my legs around his waist, and slid inside me, cupping my backside as he lifted me and climbed into the tub.

I hissed in pain the moment I hit the water. All the scrapes and cuts I’d accumulated during my run to find Nate had come to life with a vengeance in the warm water, but I didn’t care. I was in Nate’s arms, and he was buried deep inside me. I rose on my knees, ignoring the tug of pain, and sank down on his thick shaft, throwing my head back at the exquisite feelings rising inside me.

“You ever pull a stunt like that again, and I’ll tan your hide,” Nate vowed, squeezing my posterior to make his point as he drove up deep, filling me completely.

Water sloshed over the side of the tub with our movement, drenching the floor, but who the heck cared? The dragon was gone, my father was home, and Nate loved me.

“You’re more important than a few scrapes.” I moaned when he rolled his thumb across my clit with delicious results.

He glowered at me, but never lost his rhythm. If this was angry sex, I was all for making Nate mad. “Your fuckin’ safety’s more important than my pride.” He gritted the words between clenched teeth, anchoring me to his shaft with his hands at my shoulders. “The city’s full of vagrants who’d like nothin’ more than to corner a defenseless woman.”

Despite the sparks of heaven surfacing deep in my groin, I rolled my lips between my teeth to hide my guilt as he leaned forward to suck a nipple into his mouth. He caught the move, and his eyes narrowed dangerously, correctly guessing I’d seen a vagrant on my run over. “I only saw one, and he was too drunk to chase me.”

I rose up and slammed back down, hoping to distract him from my stupidity. I should have been smarter than running through the dark streets like I had, but I’d do it again if this was the result.

I opened my eyes and tried to look innocent, but it didn’t work. He grabbed my hips and pounded into me, his jaw flexing as he tried to hold back from yelling at me, his face flushing with anger. I watched in amazement as his skin deepened in color with every thrust. I didn’t think it was possible for Nate to turn that shade of red.

Reaching up, he grabbed my neck and pulled my mouth to his. “Swear to Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he growled before devouring my mouth.

Yikes! Time to tame the beast. Or feed the wolf. Or both!

Heck.

Yes!

Neanderthals were so dang cute when they were peeved!

“Probably,” I admitted when I broke free, biting his bottom lip while reaching between his legs so I could caress him. “But I can promise, you’ll die happy.”