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Humans hadn’t been hunted as prey for thousands of years, yet something in our DNA still remembered. An instinctive sense of survival. Even when the conscious mind hadn’t detected danger, the senses knew.
“I never claimed to be a fighter,” I said with an edge. “Just that I wouldn’t run crying.”
I knew the danger, but she had me wound too tight.
Rowan Alexander tasted like summer rain and heartbreak. Mine or hers, I couldn’t be sure. Either way, I was addicted. It took every last shred of my control to finally pull away from her.
“You’d rather let your father live in some fairy tale while you’re miserable than make him face reality?”
I’d learned to manage it by keeping calm, but fuck if Rowan didn’t make me feel like a stuttering kid again.
“My bed is your bed. I wake alone, and I will not be happy. Understood?”
“That’s my girl. My wife. You’re mine, Rowan Byrne. All. Fucking. Mine.”
I’d always thought binding myself to someone like that would equate to weakness, but that was the opposite of what I felt when I thought of her. With Rowan in my life giving me purpose, I could conquer the world. All she’d have to do was ask.
A month of peace followed by all hell breaking loose. We’d had our month. It was time for the chaos.
