38. Delaney
DELANEY
The drive back is quiet.
The marina hasn’t left us. It’s still in the car, the echo of what almost happened. The man. The knife. The word lawyer sitting between us like something neither of us wants to touch yet.
Samson’s hands are steady on the steering wheel.
I turn my head slightly, watching him without being obvious about it.
“You let him go,” I say.
“I chose not to follow him.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“No,” he says. “It’s not.”
“Why?”
His eyes don’t leave the road. “Because you were standing in the open.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Yes, it is. You asked why I chose not to follow him. You’re the reason. That’s my answer.”
“No, I asked why letting him go and choosing not to follow are two different things.”
He doesn’t reply.
“Stop deciding things for me,” I say. “I decide what I can handle.”
“Do you?” The challenge in his voice hits sharp.
The car slows as we turn onto the private road. The castle comes into view.
“I know what I’m walking into,” he says as he cuts the engine.
“And you think I don’t?”
He doesn’t answer.
I don’t wait for him to open my door. I’m out first.
Cold air hits my skin, but it doesn’t touch the heat under it.
I hear his door open behind me. Feel him before he reaches me. Always.
“You don’t get to decide what I know,” I say again as I walk toward the castle.
“I do when it puts you in danger.”
I stop.
Turn.
He’s right there.
Too close.
Too fast.
“You keep saying that,” I say. “Like it makes it true.”
“It is true.”
“Is it?” I whip my hands to my hips. “Why did you let that old timer talk my ear off on the dock, then? He told me things. Things you should have told me.”
He doesn’t reply.
“Why, Samson?” I shake my head. “I don’t like being handled.”
He grits his teeth. “Then stop putting yourself in situations where you need to be.”
“You took me to the marina,” I fire back. “You let that old man say his piece.”
“And you ran after me when I followed the other guy,” he grits out. “I told you to stay put.”
“Alone? On the dock?” I let out a breath. “That was keeping me out of trouble?”
His gaze drops to my mouth.
Just for a second.
That’s all it takes.
Heat sparks low and immediate.
Damn him.
“You think this is about keeping you out of trouble?” he says quietly.
“What is it about, then?”
“Survival.”
I step closer. “If that’s all this is,” I say, “then why did you bring me here?”
“Because I didn’t want you anywhere else.”
I sigh and then turn and walk inside.
He follows.
The door closes behind us.
The place feels different now. Charged. Like it knows what’s coming.
I don’t go to the main room.
I don’t go to my bedroom.
I go straight down the hall.
To the door.
The chain.
The lock.
I stop in front of it.
Feel him behind me.
Closer.
Closer.
“You said I don’t understand,” I say.
“You don’t.”
“Then explain it.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
I turn. “Everything with you is ‘it doesn’t work that way,’” I say. “You decide. You control. You lock things down and expect me to just accept it?”
“Yes.”
A laugh escapes me. “Not happening.”
His hand comes up fast. And I’m pinned back against the door. The chain rattles. Metal against metal. The lock shifts behind me.
“You keep pushing,” he says.
“So do you.”
“I push to keep you alive.”
“And I push because I want the truth.”
“You’re not ready for it.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
His hand tightens just slightly around my throat.
Enough.
Always just enough.
“You think this is a game,” he says.
“I think you don’t trust me.”
“I trust you,” he says quietly. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”
“Then stop shutting me out.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Then show me.”
The words leave before I can stop them.
We both feel it.
He drops his gaze to my mouth again.
Longer this time.
I don’t look away.
I don’t step back.
I don’t give him an out.
“If you’re going to control everything,” I say, my throat tight from his grasp, “then at least be honest about what you’re doing.”
“And what’s that?”
I hold his gaze. “Keeping me exactly where you want me.”
His grip tightens. I swallow against the tension. The pressure. He’s bruised me before on my neck, on my shoulder, on my ass.
Perhaps this is what he truly wants. Me. Here. His. Trapped in a castle with a beast.
“You want honesty?” he says.
“Yes.”
He moves close, brushes his stubbled cheek against my jawline and heads to my ear, biting down hard on the lobe. “Then don’t pretend you don’t want to be here,” he whispers.
I clench my jaw. “You don’t get to tell me what I want.”
He slides his tongue over the outer shell of my ear. I suppress a shudder.
“You walked toward the door,” he whispers. “You stepped into me. You didn’t stop me last night.”
Heat floods my body.
I swallow again against the tension around my throat. “You didn’t give me a reason to.”
He pulls back. Something flashes in his eyes. Something dark. Something possessive.
“Careful,” he says.
“Or what?”
“You won’t like what happens next.”
My heart is racing now.
But I don’t step away.
Not from him.
Not from this.
“Try me.”
That does it.
He moves.
Fast.
One step.
Then nothing between us.
His hand still around my neck. The other braced beside my head.
Again, I’m caged in.
His mouth is right there but his lips aren’t touching me. The space between us is unbearable.
“If I start this,” he says, voice low, rough, “I don’t stop.
I’ll take all of you. Every fucking bit, Delaney.
I’ll take that forbidden hole in your ass.
I’ll fuck you and fuck you and fuck you until nothing is left of you that I haven’t touched.
That I haven’t cursed. That I haven’t claimed as mine. ”
God, the heat. His amber eyes, his full pink lips, his low and rich voice.
“Do you get it yet? Do you? I’m not just any man, Delaney. I’m the beast that will give you nightmares.”
Beast. Nightmares. His hot body, his hard cock, his claws and his teeth…
It’s too late to turn back.
And the truth?
I don’t want to.
“I know,” I say.
And this time I lean in first.