5. Knox
KNOX
T he skillet hisses as venison crackles in butter.
I drop thick cuts of bread in the pan beside it, let the fat soak and sizzle. My hands move steady, but my head’s a storm.
Behind me, I hear the creak of the floorboards.
She pads in soft, hesitant. My little rabbit. No—Lily. She said her name’s Lily.
“Sit,” I order without turning.
The chair legs scrape. She obeys, but I can feel the heat of her stare against my back. Hate to admit it, but I love her feistiness. I’m not made for weak and simpering females.
The sensation of her gripping my hair, fucking my mouth as I ate her out last night threatens to chop me off at the knees. Should’ve rubbed one out as she slept. But no…from now on,everydrop of my cum belongs to my little rabbit.
I put the plate down in front of her, jar of water beside it. Then stare at the jug. Would she prefer coffee? Juice? Milk?
I grab two mugs of coffee, set one down before her with milk and sugar, and she shoots me a grateful look. “Thanks.”
That simple word sends a warm meteor through my chest. “Eat,” I say, rougher than I mean. When she hesitates, I narrow my eyes. “You ate the stew yesterday, so I know you’re not vegetarian or nothin’.”
She looks at the food like she doesn’t trust it, then back up at me. “I’m not.”
“Good.” I nudge my chin at the plate.
She sighs. Takes a small bite, chews slow.
I grab my own plate, and we eat in silence. I’m not happy that once again she leaves more than half her plate untouched but, whatever, I’m not wasting good venison. I grab it and polish it off.
Then I set the dirty dishes aside and lean forward.
“Now you’re going to tell me everything.”
Her lashes lower, hands tight on the crust. “I told you?—”
“Not enough,” I snap. “Not even close. Why the hell are you running? And if it’s true someone’s after you, then tell me who’s chasing you.”
Her eyes flash, stubborn as ever. “It’s true! I’m not a liar.”
I can’t help my snort. Or ignore the hurt that chases across her face, but I harden my gut against it. She’s already shown me she possesses enough wiles to down a water buffalo just by fucking breathing.
She stares off to the side for a long minute, until my growl brings her gaze slamming into mine. “I…I’m running from my ex. I don’t know what he’ll do if I don’t go home.”
Every muscle in my body locks. He .
Jealousy slams through me so fast I almost bare my teeth.
I plant my forearms on the table, lean across the plate, crowding her space. “Start at the beginning.”
Her throat works. She sets the mug down with shaking fingers.
“We met three years ago when he came to my market stall to order some flowers. We started seeing each other, and I grew the stall into a flower delivery and venue-decorating business. I handled the decorations, arrangements, deliveries. He managed the money, the marketing. But he…he got controlling. Said things…did things.”
“Did he fucking hurt you?” My voice is a deadly whisper. A promise of carnage I haven’t heard since I left the ring. But while that was all for show, this is very much real. Just like the last time I used it. On my manager. And the ex I caught in his bed.
Lily’s head bows, and I see red.
I have to breathe in and out a dozen times before I can reach out, cup her chin, and raise her head. “You don’t fucking bow your head when you talk about him, you hear me? You raise your chin high, face the bastard head-on.”
Her eyes widen, but after a tense moment she nods.
“Good. Go on.”
Her face pales. She nods. “Two weeks ago I found a ring. Hidden in the closet. I knew he was going to propose.”
Something feral growls low in my chest. “So he wanted to go from abusive boyfriend to piece of shit husband?” I grind out, already hating the word.
She flinches, then keeps going, words tumbling fast, like if she stops, she’ll never start again. “I told him maybe we should go to counseling first. That I wasn’t ready to take the next step. That we needed help.”
Her voice cracks. “He flipped. Said something was wrong with me. That I didn’t want him because I was broken. That no one else would ever want me either because…because I grew up…alone.”
I slam my fist down on the table. The jars rattle, water sloshing. Her eyes fly wide.
“Son of a fucking bitch,” I snarl.
Her lip trembles. “I know you think I’m hiding things, but that’s the truth.”
My chest heaves. Every instinct I’ve buried for years screams to find the bastard, drag him up this mountain, and bury him alive. Somewhere close by so I can take a piss on his grave every day.
I force my hands flat, breathing hard. “What else?”
She hesitates. Her fingers twist in her lap. “He made me believe I was useless. That I had no one else. That I’d be nothing without him. So I left.”
I want to rip the bastardlimbfrom limb, but since I can’t, I allow the thicker, stronger feeling to move through me.
I lean back, the chair creaking under me as relief hits me sharp and unexpected. She’s not tied to him anymore. She’s here.
And she’s never going back.
She must see the change in me because her head tilts, eyes narrowing. “You look…relieved.”
I don’t deny it. “Because I am.”
Her cheeks flush. She looks away again.
I growl low. “Don’t you dare clam up now. Look at me.”
She shakes her head. “I’ve said enough.”
“Do you want me to drag every word out of you, rabbit?”
Her mouth parts. Her chin tips up. “Stop calling me rabbit.”
“Keep answering my questions, and maybe I’ll think of something else to call you.”
Her lips twitch. She whispers, “Okay, Bear.”
My chest goes tight, and oxygen feels like treacle in my throat. She doesn’t know what that word means to me, what the slight variation of it meant to millions of screaming fans. I stiffen, jaw clenched.
She notices. Of course she does. She studies me with bright eyes. And her legs shift under the table, brushing mine, parting just slightly.
Christ .
Her bare thigh.
Heat licks up my spine and swallows me whole. I know she’s not wearing panties because her ripped, slick-crusted pair I plan never to wash is sitting in my drawer next to her bra. Next to my things.
I see the way she presses her thighs together, the blush crawling her throat.
I know she feels me watching.
Her gaze lifts slowly, alluringly…and collides with mine. For one charged second, I’m caught in her beautiful green eyes, fixing to drag her across this table and grind her down until she’s begging. Eat her out until she loses her vocal cords.
But she looks away, lips pressed tight, and my blood boils all over again.
“You don’t stop halfway,” I snarl. “You finish. Tell me where you were running to.” My fist bunches on the table as jealousy grips me tighter. “Or who you were running to.”
Her voice wavers. “Nowhere. No one. I had no destination in mind, just knew that I needed to get away. No one’s waiting for me. Or looking for me.”
Her eyes grow wide when she realizes what she’s let slip.
Every last atom in me shrieks in triumph. “Say it again.” My voice is a vicious thunderclap.
She jumps, tries to curl away from me. “Bear?—”
“Don’t make me drag it out of you, Lily.”
She trembles, even as her nipples surge hard and hungry against my T-shirt. As her gaze darts around my space before landing on me. “No one’s looking for me,” she whispers.
The truth.
But then she adds, quiet as a breath, “But I can’t stay here. I…I don’t know what he’ll do if I don’t come home.”
Rage sears me raw. I lean forward, close enough for her to feel my breath on her cheek. On those sweet, plump-as-fuck lips I want sucking on my tip because it’s the only bit that’ll fit in that tiny hole she calls a mouth.
“Well, he’s welcome to attempt coming up my mountain.” My voice drops to a dangerous growl. “If he does, he’ll find more than a rope snare waiting for him.”
Her eyes widen. Her lips part. And I see it—the mix of fear, awe, and something darker… heightened , that makes her pulse race faster.
I rise, go and fetch the first aid kit, and leave the words to sink in.
When I return, I kneel in front of her again, same as last night.
Cleaning similar spots and scratches on her calf and up her thighs from bolting blind through the woods.
“Hold still.” My voice comes out rougher than I mean. My hand dwarfs her shin, my thumb spanning half her calf.
She huffs but doesn’t pull away. Her eyes track me while I unwrap the bandage, check the angry red marks. Clean. Healing.
I don’t like the way relief floods me. Like I’ve been holding my breath since I caught her in that snare.
I rewrap her calf and knot it quick. “Let’s go, petal.”
She blinks. “Petal?”
“You don’t like rabbit.” My mouth curves slow. “So you’re petal. Soft. Beautiful. Mine to protect.”
To pleasurably bruise and lick and finger-fuck. Maybe even—no.
She can’t take my cock. And isn’t that just a fucking crying shame?
Her cheeks blaze as if she can read my thoughts. She bites her lip, looking away again.
But she doesn’t argue.
And that’s enough.
For now.
Lily
Petal .
The word blooms in my chest, fragile and dangerous all at once.
Rabbit made me feel small. Prey. Something he could snatch up and devour in one bite.
But petal?
That feels different. Sure, he can crush me in his fist or under that giant’s boot of his, but I sense he’ll take better care.
His voice had roughened on it, like the word meant something. Like I meant something.
I shouldn’t want it. Shouldn’t want his protection, his looming shadow, the way he watches me like I’m already his. But I do.
And his feral reaction to a fraction of what I admitted about Brandon’s treatment?
I can’t stop replaying the moment. Over and over.
The way his eyes burned into mine across the table, his growl promising no man would ever hurt me again. And worse—my body responded. My thighs pressed tight, heat curling where it shouldn’t.
I don’t want to need him. I don’t want to crave the very cage I swore I’d escape. But the more he stares, the more I feel safe inside his darkness.