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The woman sent to kill him, was the only woman who had ever made him feel safe.
“Jameson fucking Vine. I believe your hands are on my wife.”
“Careful, Shade.” His voice lowered to a dangerous register. “You’re starting to sound like you care.”
“If you shoot me,” he said, his voice dropping, “it will only make me want to fuck you.”
His blood sang with the need to possess her, to claim her, to make her his in the most primal way possible.
“Do your fucking worst, little heir.”
“Women are the backbone, the foundation, the immovable force that still does not falter when men stand on our spines to grab power.
“You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted,” he finally said, his voice hoarse, the words unpolished. “The only honest part of me is what I feel for you.”
“I am in awe of you. In awe of your resilience, your intelligence, your capacity for love in a world that has shown you so little of it. You are a goddamn force of nature, and I am just a man lucky enough to stand in your presence.”
Something caught in Greyson’s chest as the realization finally, truly, settled into him. This woman was about to become his wife.
“Men never truly understand the meaning of patience. You see, men like you can’t comprehend even the concept of suffering, the lesson to be learned in it. Especially not in silence.” Her eyes never left his. “But women? That is all we do. We endure. We wait. We survive.”
