4. Knox
KNOX
H er body’s soft in my arms, her head against my chest, the taste of her still coating my tongue. The forest is silent again, but inside me?
Chaos.
I stride back toward the cabin, every step heavy with something I can’t name. Hunger. Fear. Possession.
At the door, I pause. Look down at her.
Her lashes lie dark against her cheeks, her lips parted, her breath still shaky from climax. My little rabbit, fucked half-senseless from nothing more than my mouth.
She ran. Twice.
A little farther this second time because I wasn’t paying attention. Fooled myself into thinking she was done running.
At least for the night.
Every step I took to track her had been filled with fear of her falling into another one of my traps.
My jaw locks, but the words come out rough, torn from somewhere deeper than my chest.
“You’ve run from me twice now,” I growl, voice vibrating through the still night. “There won’t be a third.”
Her eyelids flutter. A small sound slips out, somewhere between a whimper and a sigh.
I press my forehead to hers, my pulse hammering as our breaths mingle. “Once I take you inside, Lily, that’s it. We cross this threshold, and every inch of you is mine. No holding back. You’ll be mine until this mountain buries me. And if anyone tries to take you from me, I’ll bury them too.”
It’s absurd. Impossible. I know it.
And yet the claiming words fall from my mouth. I’ve never done anything by halves, grew up knowing my place in this world would always be larger than life.
So I don’t care what this means for her.
I am what I am. And this is how it’s going to be.
Her lips part, her breath warm against my mouth.
I wait for her to fight, to spit, to scream. But she just looks at me with wide, dazed eyes, pupils blown. And in that silence, I see it—she feels it too. The weight of what I’ve promised.
Sure, she will fight me down the line. Probably as early as tomorrow.
But not tonight.
So I carry her over the threshold.
My threshold.
And my chest heaves like I’ve just sealed my own damn fate.
Inside, the fire snaps low.
I shut the bolt with a slam, the sound final, absolute. Then I turn the key in the lock for good measure and slide it into my pocket.
She shifts against me, murmurs, “Put me down.”
But her arms curl tighter around my neck, her body betraying her. I feel it, every small squeeze, every tremble.
“You’re not ready to stand,” I tell her, my voice flat. “You ran hard and you came harder.” And I sure as fuck am not ready to let her out of my arms.
Her blush creeps back, even through the haze of exhaustion. I smell her arousal still, sweet and sharp, mixing with woodsmoke. It makes my cock throb, my chest ache.
I take her down the short hall, push open my bedroom door with a shoulder. She stiffens when she sees it—my bed, big enough to accommodate us both with more than enough room to spare.
Her gaze darts to mine, panic and something darker flashing.
I set her down on the edge, and she sinks into the blankets.
“Stay here, rabbit. I’m going to run a bath.”
She stares up at me for a moment, then she nods. I rise, and her eyes follow me, her head tilting back so she can stare at me.
Something heats and curls in her eyes, and my own pulse thunders.
I’m learning a few things about my rabbit. Things I shouldn’t relish so much and yet…
Spinning, I head to the bathroom. I take my time running the bath, keeping one ear cocked toward the bedroom even though there’s no way she’s escaping me save crawling up the chimney. I have everything bolted down tighter than a whiskey cork in January.
When I return, she’s still on the bed, wide-eyed but pliant. I scoop her up, carry her into the bathroom, and set her on the stool beside the tub.
Her dress is still hanging in jagged tatters. I strip it away in silence, bite the tip of my tongue to keep from howling at the raw perfection of her beauty when she’s fully exposed to me.
She doesn’t fight me. Just breathes quick, her cheeks flushed as shedropsher lashes.
The bra follows, tossed aside, leaving her bare. My throat thickens, and the log in my pants screams for mercy.
I lower her carefully into the water, cupping her under the arms, easing her down until steam licks over her skin. She sighs and tips her head back, her beautiful eyes fluttering closed.
I wash her in careful, reverent silence.
My hands are steady, rough with scars, but I’m gentle as I run the cloth over her shoulders, down her arms, across her back.
She shivers but leans into it.
I don’t linger where I shouldn’t, not after wringing two orgasms out of her already. She’s replete, soft with exhaustion, pliant in a way that pleases me a helluva lot more than it should.
When she’s clean, I pull the plug, rinse her with a jug of warm water, and lift her from the tub. She’s small, slippery, fragile in my arms, but she curls against my chest like she belongs there.
I set her down on the bed again and pull one of my smallest T-shirts over her head. It still swallows her whole, the hem brushing her thighs, the sleeves sliding past her elbows. She looks like mine in a way that cuts too deep.
That thought terrifies me more than anything.
I lift the comforter. “Get in, little rabbit.”
She scrambles up and darts to the far side, eyeing me half warily. I sigh and shake my head. Pat the center of my bed—the place shallowly concave from the shape of my body. That’s where she belongs now.
“No, baby. Right in the middle.”
Her eyes widen, but she slowly settles plump in the center of my bed, her bare legs against my sheets.
I stand back, fists clenched at my sides, chest heaving, fighting the need to roar in fucking satisfaction.
The need to join her is a weight so colossal I can barely move for fear of being crushed by it.
But I take one step back. Then another.
She whispers, “What are you doing?”
Watching you. Wanting you. Losing myself to you.
I drag my gaze away, stalk to the armchair in the corner. Another chair carved with my bare hands. Scarred leather with a heavy frame. I drop into it with a groan and lean forward, elbows on my knees.
“Go to sleep, Lily. I’ll be here,” I tell her. “All night.”
Making damn fucking sure you don’t run. Or some fucker doesn’t try to steal you from me in the middle of the night.
She swallows, her tiny hands fisting in my sheets. “You’re just…going to sit there?” she asks huskily.
“Yes.”
Her brow furrows, but she doesn’t argue. She shifts down into the blankets, tugging them up to her chin like a barrier. Her eyes flutter closed, lashes trembling.
I watch every second.
Until her breathing evens out.
Then I shake my head as feral hunger coils in me, hot and relentless.
My cock still aches like a motherfucker, and my mouth burns and waters for her taste.
Five years I’ve starved myself, and one slip of a girl in a yellow dress undoes me in a single night.
I curl one fist inside the other. I shouldn’t be surprised by this. Not when I know the vile curse that runs in my blood.
Addiction.
I’ve seen it ruin men, strip them bare, turn them into shells. I fought it every day of my career, stayed clean when everyone else drowned in pills and liquor and powder. But this?
This is worse.
I don’t even know her full name.
I don’t know what she’s running from, what kind of trouble she’s dragged to my mountain. If she’s running at all or if this is just some elaborate ruse.
And still my chest feels like it might split open if she ever leaves.
I lean back, glare at the shadows. I won’t let it happen. I won’t let her take me apart the way the last woman did.
But then she stirs, clutches my pillow, and murmurs softly like she’s in the safest place in the world, when the very force of my feelings should be giving her nightmares.
My gut twists. My fists clench tighter.
God, how can I already be hooked?
You know why.
You can still taste her fucking cunt on your tongue. Hear her beautiful siren cries in your ears. She has you whipped.
I grind a hand down my face, fighting for control.
I may be sliding, but surely I can put some guardrails in place? Ensure it’s not as brutal a nightmare as last time?
Or you can send her packing?
No. Fuck no.
The very idea tightens every cell in my body until I feel I’m going to break into tiny little pieces.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow I’ll rip the truth from her. She’ll tell me what she’s hiding. She’ll spill every secret she’s guarding with those sharp little teeth.
By any means necessary.
Because this time, I won’t be played for a fool.
But tonight?
Tonight I sit in my chair, watch her sleep in my bed, and admit a truth I’ve been running from since the moment I saw her tangled in my snare.
She’s mine.
And I’m already hers.
Lily
The first thing I feel when I wake is warmth.
Which is puzzling because Brandon likes to keep the temperature cool to the point of brisk. Freezing, sometimes.
This warmth is…comforting. And yet…
I blink, disoriented.
Then, like the sunlight blazing outside, it all comes flooding back.
Heavy blankets, the faint smell of smoke, pine, and something darker that clings to the sheets.
Him .
The second thing I feel is a stare.
I jolt upright, heart racing, and there he is—exactly where he said he’d be, in the armchair in the corner, his massive frame spilling over it, elbows on his knees. Eyes locked on me like he hasn’t looked away all night.
“You really stayed there?” My voice comes out raspy, half asleep, half disbelieving. “The whole night?”
He grunts. “Said I would. I’m not a bastard who goes back on his word.”
Something twists sharp in my chest. My ex used to say he wouldn’t hurt me, wouldn’t leave bruises, wouldn’t crush me down with words.
Promises that shattered every time.
The beast must see the flicker of surprise on my face because his scowl deepens. “Clearly you’ve never known men not to let you down.”
I shrug, looking away. I don’t want to give him that piece of me.
Suddenly he’s moving. The chair creaks and his boots thud, and then he’s looming over the bed.
His shadow swallows me up, the same way it did the first time and every time since.
And heaven help me, but why do I like that he’s so much bigger than me when I should be terrified he can crush me in a single blink?
“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he grates.
I force my chin up to glare at him. But when his eyes lock on mine the air shifts. Hot. Sharp. Charged .
Memories of last night slam into me—his mouth savage and worshipful between my thighs, my screams in the trees, the taste of his tongue driving me insane.
My breath hitches. His does too.
“Do you want me to drag every word out of you, little rabbit?” His voice is low, dangerous. “Or use other means, like I did last night?”
“Lily,” I snap, heat rising in my cheeks. “I told you my name is Lily. I don’t like ‘little rabbit.’”
He smirks, leaning closer. “Answer my questions then, and maybe I’ll think of a new name for you.”
I cross my arms, mutter, “I don’t even know yours.”
A beat of silence. Then his eyes darken. “What do you want to call me?”
My lips part. Shock flares in my chest. Then I look at his thick neck, this Volkswagen-sized jaw, the muscles stacked on muscles, and the scars that sit on top of them. I don’t know why the words tumble out, but they do. “Beast. Bear.”
He stiffens, a flicker of something wild but unreadable crossing his face.
Why did that get to him?
“Close enough,” he mutters, almost to himself.
He shifts closer, one knee bracing on the mattress. I don’t realize what I’m doing until it’s too late—my legs creep up, parting, bracing against his thighs, making space for him to fit between them.
And he does.
The heat of him presses against me, the hard ridge of his erection blatant through his jeans. My breath snags.
His eyes flick to mine, then lower, devouring the sight of my parted thighs, the bottom of his T-shirt riding high.
He grinds once, slow, deliberate, dragging that thickness right against me. Sparks shoot through me and a broken whine slips out before I can stop it.
His mouth curves in a savage grin. “That what you want, Lily?”
I can’t speak, but my treacherous hips arch helplessly, seeking more. Seeking delicious friction I know he can provide.
He groans low, a sound like it’s been ripped out of him. But then he stills, pressing hard against me but not moving. Denying. Torturing.
“You don’t get what you want just for running your mouth,” he rasps. “You earn it.”
I whimper again, my thighs trembling around him.
He cups my jaw with his beastly hand, one thumb rough against my cheek. His other palm grips my hip, holding me down, stopping me from grinding back.
My body is on fire. My mind is chaos. All I can think is please. Please. Please.
But he pulls away. Slow. Deliberate.
“You know where the bathroom is since you’ve escaped from there twice now,” he says, voice rough but steady. “Spare toothbrush in the cabinet.”
I blink, stunned.
“Breakfast in fifteen minutes.” His gaze burns down into mine. “And don’t run, rabbit. Unless you don’t want to sit down right for a week. Or come on my tongue for two. I’ll still lick that pretty cunt, but it’d be a crying shame if you don’t get to cream for me.”
My thighs press tight together as he stalks away, leaving me wrecked and aching in his bed.
And I hate myself for it.
Because part of me doesn’t want to run anymore.