Page 65 of Grace

“What?” He lifts his chin. He wants to show he’s the alpha here. But I know he’s not at the top of the food chain.

“What you just said before.” Chase straightens, towering over us. He’s always been taller than me, but I’d forgotten by how much. He looks enormous.

Chase never had a six-pack—I don’t think he has one now, either. His body has always been fit and strong, with powerful biceps and relentless stamina.

“When I was fucking this whore,” Bo yanks me, snapping me out of my indecent thoughts, “she was moaning the name of another guy.”

“Fucking or raping?”

“I only took what was mine,” he answers with a self-satisfied grin.

He grabs my jaw and pulls me closer. He wants to kiss me, but I thrash so wildly I manage to hit him in the face. It doesn’t stop him—he kisses me roughly on the lips anyway.

“This is what I love about her. She’s a fierce little bitch. And her sister lets me fuck her in the ass for a line of coke.”

I don’t have to turn my head to know Chase is standing next to me. The smell of his clothes has always made me feel as if sunrays were caressing my skin. It reminds me of jasmine and fresh, juicy honeydew.

“What the—?” Bo starts, but Chase grabs him by the throat and rips me from his grip.

“Nothing. Nothing you ever took from her was yours.”

I scream when Bo’s arm whips toward Chase. I throw my hands up in front of my face and step between them without thinking. Bo’s pocket knife leaves a paper-thin cut across my palm. Pain sweeps through my body in waves.

“It seems you only love it when I draw your blood.” Bo licks his upper lip and spins the knife in his fingers.

Chase picks up the baseball bat and swings it in a casual, elegant motion. The wood crashes into Bo’s face with a crack. His head tilts to the side, and he spits blood. I back away until my back hits the wall. I’m gasping for air, my heart twisted into a tight knot, the world around me reduced to a far-off spot on the horizon. I can’t see clearly—neither the shapes around me nor the bodies. Dark shadows chase each other through my mind while I’m unable to take my eyes off them. And the sounds… wood crashing against flesh, bones cracking, Bo shouting…

I’m trembling as I watch the brutal execution. It’s not the first time Chase has killed to protect me. This murder rips open all the wounds I tried to forget, sending my mind into a storm of emotions. The long years of loneliness, pain, and anger set my veins ablaze.

When Chase starts walking toward me, my breathing grows even more frantic. The metallic taste of blood mixes with the spicy scent of honeydew.

Chase pins me against the wall, his closeness overwhelming me. My back presses to the cool surface as he pushes his chest against my body and inhales my scent. My body trembles, and an aching desire burns low between my legs.

“Grace,” he whispers in my ear while twisting a lock of brown hair around his finger. His voice is dark, warm, intoxicating—and sly at the same time. “You still smell as amazing as I remember. I’m sorry this is how we have to see each other again.”

I look at the dead bodies, my vision still blurry.

“I think I’m in shock,” I mumble.

That annoying dark lock of hair falls across his forehead… and in that moment, I cease to exist. His lips twist into a menacing, dark smile.

He embraces me with both arms and holds me tight. My heart slows with every beat, and my breathing evens out. All my strength leaves my body—as the adrenaline drains from my system, exhaustion and weakness take hold. My eyelids grow heavy and slowly close halfway.

“That’s it. You’re doing great, Grace,” he says in his deep, resonant voice. His closeness, his scent, and his voice calm me down—he always knew how to soothe me after he had beaten me.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He sweeps my hair out of my face and traps my lips in a deep, intoxicating kiss. My body trembles, and my pores exude desire as pleasure coils low in my belly. His warm palm cups my face. This connection feels so natural.

He and I.

I wouldn’t feel bad about this kiss even if someone threw the facts in my face. Because… I need this. I need him. Which is horrible, yet beautiful in the way a cold, barren landscape can be.

Both my body and my mind react to his kiss, to the soft, sensual dance of our lips and tongues. His fingers get lost in my long brown hair, and he kisses me with so much passion and love it burns through my body. In my belly, rotten black butterflies flutter their torn wings.

“I missed you, Grace.”

I look at him with eyes drunk on our kiss.