Chapter 10
ten
. . .
Amanda
The night air hits my face, cool and damp.
The alley behind the bar is poorly lit, but I know the path by heart.
I dig in my purse for the car keys, smiling to myself as I think about what waits at home.
Ryker, his massive body wrapped around mine like a shield.
The way he whispers filthy promises in my ear as he fills me.
The way he calls me "princess" and "little girl" in that gruff voice that makes me melt.
I'm so lost in those sweet thoughts that I don't hear the footsteps until they're right behind me.
"Hello, Amanda."
My blood freezes in my veins. That voice. The voice that's haunted my nightmares for three years.
I spin around. Danny stands just feet away, his face a mess of healing bruises and cuts—Ryker's handiwork. But there's something different in his eyes tonight. Something beyond obsession. Something broken and dangerous.
"Danny." My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "You need to leave. Now."
He laughs, the sound hollow and wrong. "Or what? Your pet gorilla will beat me up again?" He takes a step closer. "He's not here now, is he?"
I back up, my spine hitting the car. "Ryker will be out any second."
"Then I'll make this quick." His hand comes up, something metallic glinting in the dim light. A knife. Small but deadly looking.
Terror surges through me, adrenaline making everything sharp and clear. "What are you doing?" I whisper, eyes fixed on the blade.
"If I can't have you," he says, voice eerily calm, "no one will. Especially not him."
He lunges forward. I scream and dodge sideways, the knife slicing air where I just stood. My purse drops, contents scattering across the pavement.
"Danny, stop!" I shout, desperate to reason with him, to buy time. "This isn't you!"
"You don't know me," he snarls, advancing again. "You never gave me a chance to show you who I really am."
I back away, trying to keep distance between us. My heel catches on something—a loose brick or bottle—and I stumble. It's all the opening he needs. He's on me in an instant, one hand grabbing my wrist, the knife coming up toward my face.
"I'm going to make sure he never wants to look at you again," Danny hisses, the blade inches from my cheek.
The back door of the bar slams open with such force it rebounds off the wall.
"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HER!"
The roar is animalistic, barely human. Ryker charges across the alley like a freight train, covering the distance in seconds. Danny barely has time to turn before Ryker's fist connects with his face. The knife clatters to the ground as Danny staggers backward.
But Ryker isn't done. Not even close.
He grabs Danny by the throat, lifting him off his feet like he weighs nothing. Slams him against the brick wall with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs.
"I warned you," Ryker growls, each word punctuated with a blow. "Told you to stay away from her." Punch. "Told you what would happen." Punch.
Danny's face is a bloody mess, but Ryker is beyond reason, beyond control. This isn't the calculated violence of the MMA fighter. This is primal. Protective. A beast defending his mate.
"You pulled a knife on her," Ryker snarls, delivering another crushing blow. "Were going to cut her. Scar her." His voice drops to something terrible and cold. "After you forced that kiss on her. Touched these perfect lips that belong to ME."
The possessiveness in those words should shock me, should scare me. Instead, they make me feel impossibly precious.
Danny's barely conscious now, held upright only by Ryker's grip on his shirt. Blood pours from his nose, his split lip, a gash above his eye.
"Ryker," I finally find my voice. "Ryker, stop. You'll kill him."
For a moment, I think he doesn't hear me. Or worse, doesn't care. But then his head turns slightly, those storm-gray eyes finding mine.
"Please," I whisper. "He's not worth it. I need you. Not in jail."
Something shifts in his expression. The feral rage doesn't disappear, but it recedes enough for reason to penetrate. With a final snarl, he releases Danny, who crumples to the ground like a broken doll.
"If you ever come near her again," Ryker says, voice deadly calm now, "they won't find enough pieces to identify the body. Understand?"
Danny manages a weak nod, consciousness fading.
Ryker turns to me then, his expression transforming instantly from murderous to concerned. "Are you hurt?" His hands cup my face, surprisingly gentle for someone who just nearly beat a man to death.
I shake my head, trembling now as shock sets in. "No. You got here in time."
With a tenderness that belies his size and the violence I just witnessed, he lifts me into his arms. Carries me to the car like I weigh nothing. I curl against his chest, finally feeling safe again.
"Should we call the police?" I ask as he drives us home, one hand on the wheel, the other clutching mine so tightly it almost hurts.
"Already called." His voice is clipped, still edged with rage. "Anonymous tip. They'll find him with the knife. With his record and the restraining order history, he'll go away for a long time."
At home, I lead him to the bathroom. His knuckles are split open, blood drying in the creases. I clean them gently with antiseptic, feeling his eyes on me the entire time.
"I'm sorry," he says suddenly.
I look up, surprised. "For what?"
"For what you saw. What I did. The violence." His jaw clenches. "Must have scared you."
I shake my head, setting aside the first aid kit. Take his damaged hands in mine. "You don't scare me, Ryker. You never have." I press a kiss to his knuckles. "You saved my life tonight."
Something raw and vulnerable flashes across his face before he pulls me onto his lap. "When I saw him with that knife…when I thought he might hurt you..."
"Shh," I soothe, pressing my lips to his. "I'm okay. We're okay."
The kiss deepens immediately, his arms banding around me like steel, holding me against his massive chest. I can feel his heart thundering beneath my palms, the adrenaline still coursing through him.
"Need you," he groans against my mouth. "Need to feel you. Alive. Safe. Mine."
I stand, stripping off my clothes with newfound boldness. His eyes devour every inch of skin revealed, darkening with hunger. When I'm naked, I help him out of his shirt, careful of his injured hands. He kicks off his jeans, cock already hard and ready.
I straddle him on the edge of the bed, taking control in a way I never have before. Sink down onto his thickness in one slow, deliberate movement that has us both gasping.
"Fuck," he hisses, hands gripping my hips. "So tight. So perfect."
I begin to move, setting a pace that's both tender and urgent. His hands roam my body like he needs to reassure himself I'm real, I'm here, I'm unharmed.
"All yours," I whisper, rocking against him. "Only ever yours."
His grip tightens, guiding me faster. "Mine," he growls, thrusting up to meet each downward movement. "Only mine. Never his. Never anyone else's."
The jealousy in his voice, the possessiveness, makes heat pool low in my belly. I lean forward, lips brushing his ear. "No one else has ever touched me like you do. No one else ever will."
He groans, flipping our positions without breaking our connection. Suddenly I'm on my back, his powerful body covering mine, driving into me with renewed purpose.
"Gonna erase every memory," he promises darkly. "Every second of fear. Replace it all with me." His thrusts become deeper, more deliberate. "Gonna breed you so deep, little girl. Fill you with my baby so everyone knows who you belong to."
I arch beneath him, pleasure building with each powerful stroke. "Yes," I gasp, nails raking down his back. "Make me yours completely."
He slides a hand between us, thumb finding my clit with practiced ease. "Come for me," he commands. "Come on Daddy's cock while I fill you up."
The orgasm crashes through me without warning, tearing a cry from my throat. "Daddy!" I gasp, inner walls clamping down on him.
My release triggers his. He drives in to the hilt one final time, roaring as he empties inside me. Marking me. Claiming me from within.
Afterward, he gathers me close, his massive body curled protectively around mine. His lips press gentle kisses to my temple, my cheek, my shoulder—anywhere he can reach.
"I love you," he whispers against my skin, the words so quiet I almost think I've imagined them.
But when I turn to look at him, the raw emotion in his eyes confirms what I heard. This scarred, violent, tender man loves me.
"I love you too," I whisper back, watching his eyes widen slightly in surprise before softening with something like wonder.
And as I drift to sleep in the safety of his arms, I know with absolute certainty: I'll never be afraid again.