Vow to Protect

by J.L. Beck

“What kind of problem?” he asks, his eyes focused on my hair. If all he wants is to rub my scalp and play with my curls, then I can handle this. I force another ragged breath into my lungs. I’m here, so I might as well commit now. “I want you to kill my fiancé.”

After only two minutes in this woman’s presence, I’m already butting up against the edge of my control. And that fucking dress should be outlawed.

When people ask me for things, it usually pisses me off because I don’t work for anyone but myself. But it’s not the same with those big eyes staring at me so innocent and full of hope. It also happens that I’ve been dreaming about ripping Sal’s dick off since I met him. Killing him will be no hardship for me.

Bruises, both old and new, dot her body from her ankle to her neck. I can see the edges under whatever makeup she’s applied to cover them. Rage fires through me, and I must step away and take a moment so I don’t walk out of this room, go to her house, and shoot every motherfucker in sight.

Some part of me rebels at taking her innocence and corrupting it. Because the moment I touch her, and I will touch her, all that innocence will be mine.

And when he’s finished with her, I’m still and silent on the bed watching her red blood, so bright in the hallway light, drip off the end of a knife.

Wait, where did the knife come from?

“What is Novak up to?” Kai shakes his head, uncertain, a place he definitely doesn’t like to be. “You mean Ms. N⁠—” “Not fucking Val.” Although now that he mentions it, I do want to know why she isn’t currently in my bed naked and sleeping off an orgasm.

“Am I, though? I’ve traded one kind of captivity for another.” I grab her chin hard and force her to look at me. “I won’t tolerate talk like that. We made a deal, and I expect you to honor it. As I will honor my side. You agreed to this. I didn’t force you for a single moment.”

It’s still captivity 🙄 it’s not like you gave her another option

When he doesn’t shove me away, I hesitantly put my other hand on his skin, marveling at the width of his shoulder blades under my palms. Then I curve them out over the tops of his shoulders to his biceps. As I do this, I step into his back and press my lips to the rigid length of his spine, and whisper, “I’m sorry.”