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“One: I don’t tolerate disobedience. If I give you an order, you follow it.” Magic 8 Ball says: Outlook not so good. “Two: you don’t speak unless you’re spoken to.” In what universe is that happening? Not this one.
Shaking my head, I say, “I feel sorry for his mother. She should’ve swallowed instead.”
“Oh, relax. I just wanted to ask if you think Reverse Stockholm syndrome is already a thing, or if you’re about to invent it?”
“The only one of me who ever has been or ever will be. Same as you. In a word: irreplaceable.”
“‘I make the best use of what’s in my power, and take the rest as it happens.’”
He rolls on top of me, clamps a hand over my mouth, and growls, “Introduce your top lip to your lower one for a change. And. Be. Quiet.”
He’s so solid. I’ve always liked a big man, but Declan is more than simply big. He’s dense. Powerful. Hard.
“You know what you need?” “Yes. A hundred million dollars and a button on my bedside table that gives you a shock every time you ask me a stupid rhetorical question.” He says darkly, “No. A spanking.”
“It’s him,” he says, his voice strangled. “The Irishman!” My heart jumps into my throat. I run to the nearest window and look out. Sure enough, there stands Declan on the tarmac near the front of the plane. He’s got a rocket launcher slung over one shoulder.
“I’m going to bathe you. Then feed you. Then fuck you, in that order. No, close your mouth. No talking.”
“You’re safe with me. You can let your guard down. I’ll catch you if you need to fall.”
“You can’t hide from me. I see you. I see all the strange and wonderful things you are, little lion.”
“What’s happening is that you’re breaking my bloody heart. Now fucking kiss me.”
You’re young and beautiful, and you’ve got dozens of men in your future who’ll fall madly in love with you—” “Hundreds. At least.” “—and I’ll be nothing but a distant memory for you. But I’ll still be trying to scrub your face and your taste and your sweet voice from my mind fifty years from now, because I already know nothing else will ever be able to compare to you. Nothing and no one will ever come close.”
It’s not about tab A fits into slot B. It’s about who you are as a human. What turns you on. What you need. Everyone has a match. A fit. Yin to yang, light to darkness. It’s when we fight it and judge it that we run into problems.
“I think you realize, deep down, that you can trust me. The only thing you’re really on the fence about is if you’re willing to trust yourself. Because up till now, you haven’t met a man who knew how to handle you. Who could see what you are behind that ivory tower you’ve built around your heart. But I see you. And I know you’re scared seven shades of shite to let me in.
“Aye, baby. And all I am is yours now, so take care of this monster you’ve enslaved.”
I think of the tattoo Declan has inked over his heart, and the goose bumps on my arms spread over my entire body. Vengeance Is Mine, it reads. Maybe that’s not only part of a passage from Biblical scripture. Maybe it’s more like a mission statement.
“Tá tú mianach, cailín milis. Mianach.” He tucks his face into my neck and whispers my name like a prayer. I wonder how I ever thought I’d known happiness before.
I break away from Kage, grinning, and look at her. “That reminds me. What do you think of blush for the color of your maid of honor dress?” Sloane’s mouth drops open. Her eyes go wide. “You’re getting married?”
