Chapter 32
I wake up in the early morning lying on my side, facing Jane who rolls over, nearly planting her pretty face into mine.
I raise a brow, staring at her in the soft lighting of the rising sun.
She had wanted me to hold her last night, I’m sure of it. She's even after such affection in her sleep. The action seemed like a rather intriguing idea, I admit, but after meeting with Blackwell… the energy of this castle is off. He’s more paranoid than usual, and it felt like something was haunting the fucking corner that he kept peering toward; a deep danger emitted there, even if it looked no different from the rest of his room.
I need to be cautious.
And I also don't want to rush Jane. There are so many layers that require delicacy in pulling back, and I know letting her truly rest will help her trust me.
Something nags so powerfully in my gut that she’s in danger, beyond a reasoning that I can understand. It’s as if a darkness looms closer to her, threatening to steal her light—is it related to Blackwell, somehow?
Jane frowns, her lips mumbling. My desert flower is having a bad dream.
I stare at her. Her heart broke last night, a deep layer of loss revealing itself that felt as if it had never seen the sun. There's an instinct in me to gentle that pain; I learned long ago that I thrive off of someone needing me. Someone looking to me for help.
The way I feel important when everything works—no treasure can buy that. No war won can steal that. A part of me glimpsed that potential the night I stormed after her, when she badly didn't want to return. She fucking can't get enough of how I'm Skull's Row personified, and she eats it up like a starving woman with an endless supply of lemon cakes.
And oh, how I wanted to lick every inch of her last night… kiss more than her hand. Which is why all I do is look at her now.
This is risky of me, and I know it. I’m exerting extra layers of caution because of her father, who I swear is nearby even when I can’t see him. But taking the time to tend to her brokenness? That’s all voluntary.
Maybe I'm getting older.
Maybe this life is growing boring, oddly enough.
Jane is special. She is Ritter's daughter, sharing the same tattoo as me. A siren not only saved her but gave her the sunder. She has a beauty that captivates me, and she's resilient. Ruthless.
I simply do not come across women like her. Ever. She's a perfect blend of everything I desire, and the way she melted when I kissed her hand… men have gone to wars to secure and protect something as simple as that.
Some auburn hair falls on her face when she shifts. I reach over, hovering my hand in front of her, as if reconsidering. But she's my little pet today. I can't fucking help it—I will pry her open, if I must. I'm a determined fucker, and I will remove every last, little thorn she has, and stab any man that tries to do the same. Making her belong solely to me is so tempting that I don’t know what to do with myself.
My hand hovers there, feeling the heat of her body. She's so delectable and inviting next to me. So soft. I want to fuck her for more reasons than a release. I want to be so deep in her, while breathing in the flowery scent of her thick hair.
With curiosity in my eyes, I move the hair out of her closed eyes, so as not to wake her. The gesture fills me with something that hardens my face out of self-protection, and I quietly get out of bed. These gentle moments are magnetic, and I'm not familiar with such affections. I've felt them within others, but never has it come from my own heart.
I leave the room to give her space. To give me space. Entering the living quarters, wearing only leather pants, I run my hand over my stubble-lined cheeks. 'You look good with stubble. '
I'm even remembering her fucking words like they're supposed to be important to me, considering keeping my face this way. At the same time, logic tells me I had my fun and now it's time to nip this in the bud and send her on her way. Keep her at a distance while I protect her for Charles Ritter's sake—but an aggressive part of my being rejects the very notion. If I send her on her way, I'll just follow her. Watch her. Kill all the men that flirt with her. Then appear before her in the dead of night when she least expects me, relishing how I unravel Jane in ways that are completely intoxicating to me.
Whether we both like it or not, I’ll haunt her shadows as if they’re my own.
Which means I need to understand why this castle feels off , and what our next steps are.