AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I pace in circles, anxiety still clawing at me. Do I tell him? Do I keep my secret? I trust him with my life, but I've never had a secret worth keeping before now. I've never had one so fucking dangerous. If my father thinks Thalia may interfere with his plans for my future, he may very well tear the kingdom apart searching for her.
"I found a girl in my bed in the cabin," I blurt, knowing I may need Samson's help. I may not have a choice. If my father comes for her—if he tries to take her…
Jesus.
We've been at odds for years, but I'll wage all-out war if he tries.
Sam's laugh erupts, crude and unfiltered. "What, did some woodland nymph decide to grace your bed?" he teases. "I hope you're putting her to good use, Troy. God knows, you need the distraction."
"Don't," I snarl, spinning to face him as fury rises hot and fast. He won't talk about Thalia that way. No one will.
He blinks, taken aback. "Wait. You're serious, aren't you? You really found a girl in your bed?"
"Serious as a heart attack," I admit, pacing like a caged lion. "I want her, Sam. I… Fuck. I told her that she's mine now."
"Yours?" He leans back against the wall, head cocked to the side as he studies me. "What do you mean she's yours?"
I hit him with a hard glare. "What do you think I mean? She's mine. My prize. My… Christ." I rake a hand through my hair, tugging gently. "My captive. Mine to have."
"Ah," he finally says after a moment, amusement glinting in the depths of his eyes. "I see."
Does he? Can he?
I'm not so sure. Life is a joke to Samson. No responsibilities, no obligations. He fucks who he wants to fuck and moves along. It means nothing to him.
This isn't like that. Thalia means something. At this point, I'm pretty sure she means everything. And I'm fucking worried that the darkness clawing at me is too much. I'm not a gentle man. I haven't been gentle with her. I've been demanding and crude, taking what I want. Saying what I want. Giving her every single part of me.
And God help me, I don't want to stop.
But I'm betrothed to another woman, for God's sake. I have no intention of following through on that marriage. But the contract still exists. Until it's dissolved, I can't give Thalia everything she deserves. I can't marry her.
Do I let myself keep falling deeper under her spell knowing that? Do I let her have all of me—every dark, jagged piece—when I can't give her my name? Or am I a fucking monster for taking what I want knowing that I'm still bound by my father's machinations?
"You aren't wed yet," Samson says quietly. "If you want the girl, take her, Troy. Maybe she's there for a reason. Maybe she's the clarity you were seeking."
His words aren't the absolution or condemnation I thought I needed. But they steady me, grounding me in reality and sending fire coursing through my veins.
He's right. She is there for a reason. I feel it in my fucking soul.
This thing between Thalia and me isn't wrong, not to me. It's too fucking right.
The plans my father made for my future are his goddamn plans, not mine. Thalia is my plan. One way or another, she's my future.
***
By the time I make it back to the cabin, it's late afternoon. Thalia isn't in the main room. I shove the important shit into the fridge and drop the remainder of the groceries on the kitchen counter, eager to set eyes on my curvy little temptress.
I push open the door to the bedroom, my chest tight with a mix of anticipation and something darker, needier. The sight that greets me stills every frantic thought.
She's sprawled on the bed, her chest rising and falling in the quiet rhythm of sleep. The sheet has slipped, exposing one perfect breast. Her long blonde hair fans out like a golden halo against the pillow, her full lips slightly parted.
Memories of her sobbed confession flood back, stirring the beast within me. Did she mean it when she said she wishes I had woken her with my dick in her mouth?
I've been worried about pushing her too far…but what if I'm not pushing her far enough? She'd been so eager, so obedient, offering herself up without reservation. She wants to be pushed. She wants to be played with.
She likes the dark.
I strip silently, letting my clothes fall to the floor as I watch her sleep. My muscles tense as I move toward her, a predator closing in on his precious prey.
