Be Still My Heart

by Emily McIntire

Therapists are for broken people.

WRONG.

The last thing I need is for him to write down that I have Stockholm syndrome because I thought a serial killer was cordial.

And to be honest, I’m not afraid of death. I’m afraid of forgetting how to live.

I don’t fuck cops.

MHM WE'LL SEE ABOUT THAT

“Signasti fatum tuum. It means you’ve sealed your fate,”

And a vixen she is—agonizingly alluring, without even trying. The way she’s somehow demure and commanding all at once, like a siren luring men to their deaths.

Morgan Jensen, the daughter of Skelm Island’s lightkeeper—although that’s more of an arbitrary title at this point. Her eyes were the same electric blue, bright as gemstones, snuffed out far too soon. Two decades later, I’m still lamenting her ghost, living in the shadow of the island’s lighthouse as though it might help keep her memory alive.

He’s an enigma; one that drives me insane but also fascinates me. I want to figure out how to break him open, like a rock you crack to see if there’s crystal inside. But there’s also a part of me that cowers away from his intensity.

He straightens off the wall, moving forward until he’s right in front of me, the heat of his body sticking to my skin. What is it about this man and getting into my personal space?

Maybe if I steal his breath, I’ll finally be able to exhale.

My hands fly up to his broad chest, the fabric of his flannel rough against my palms. His fingers wrap around my wrists, tugging my arms until they’re above my head, his grip locking me in place.

“Please,” he rasps. “Shut the fuck up.” Anger swirls in my chest at the same moment he kisses me, but instead of trying to break free from his hold, I give in, channeling my irritation into every swipe of my tongue.

I’m completely at his mercy. He could bend me a thousand different ways, and there would be nothing I could do but thank him for not letting me break.

“That will never happen again.”

YEAHSUREOKAY

The artist in me likes the fresh canvas she provides and wants to see what other colors we can create. But the soldier in me knows better.

“You wanna know something, killer? Learning the enemy is a lot like learning a lover.”

“Do you ever stop talking?” “Kiss me harder and find out.”

“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” He leans in farther, his lips skimming across mine. “Is that what it will take to get you out of my life? Out of my goddamn head?”

Digging my fingers into her ass, I piston harder, sure that I’m rocking the boat in a no-wake zone and not giving a single fuck.

Besides, it’s been far too long since I’ve seen my parents in person. But life has a funny way of making you forget to make time for family until it’s too late.

REAL

“Don’t worry.” I kick off my jeans so I’m standing only in black boxers, then climb onto the opposite side of the bed. “I won’t touch you unless you’re begging me to.” “That’s what I’m worried about,” she huffs under her breath, trying to shrink away.

I realize that maybe a little therapy could do everyone some good.

THE GROWTH!

I’m about to let the town hero eat me out on top of the preacher’s desk.

“Tell me you’re mine. That you won’t let any other motherfucker touch you.”

“It wasn’t a favor,” I say, sliding my hand from her hair down her spine, leaning in to glide over her perfect ass as it strains against the fabric of her black dress pants. “You don’t ever have to thank me for pleasing you, sweetheart.”

But self-care is important, and I can’t pour into other cups if my own is empty.

“There’s something deeper here that neither of us can explain. Something… ethereal, almost. I felt it the second you walked into that police station, and I tried to mask it with animosity. Tried to ignore what my body was screaming.”

“If you’re mine, I’m not going to be able to sit around and let someone disrespect you.” She rolls her eyes. “I don’t⁠—” “I don’t care if you think you need it. You’ve got my protection, regardless.”

“You look so perfect like this. Handcuffed to my bed, completely at my fucking mercy. Where should I begin?”

“The air thins, and your heart speeds, and everything goes topsy-turvy. And even if you try to fight it, your reactions don’t lie.”

And even though my emotions are ragged, my mind thrown in a thousand different directions, I sink into his kiss, letting Lincoln be the light that guides me through the foggy water. Because I’ve never felt home the way I do when I’m with him.

“It’s what you’ve always done,” he continues. “Completely wrecked me for anybody else.”

A rush of power spins through me at the way I have this man buckling under my ministrations, and I double my efforts, wanting to feel him come apart completely.

There’s something so attractive about a man who can do that. Who can bend and mold you any way he desires, as if you’re just along for the ride.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he demands, his hand wrapping around the front of my throat. I moan, my eyes rolling into the back of my head. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

Being a homicide detective is what I’ve always wanted. I lived for my job because I was always searching for that something. But what was lost has now been found.

Heat flares deep in my abdomen as I take him in, his black and gray flannel rolled up to his elbows, displaying the tattoos that decorate his forearms, his hands gripping the top of the frame. His black hair is a little longer than normal, a piece of it falling in his eyes, his green eyes sparking as they take me in.

“You’re not sick of me yet?” His eyes grow serious, one of his palms moving to brush down the side of my face. “Killer, I could stare at you every second for the rest of my life and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

“I love you.” He smiles against my lips. “About time you admitted it.” My hand smacks his shoulder. “Say it back, dick.”

Tears well in my eyes, my palm rubbing against my chest. “Be still my heart, Lincoln Porter. You are a poet.” “And you’re mine.” He smirks, dragging me into him and pressing a kiss to my lips. “Don’t you forget it.”

It’s amazing how much changes when you find the pieces of you that’ve been missing for so long. Even more when you didn’t know you were missing anything in the first place.