Page 139 of Captive Souls

He stepped back to take an object from the kitchen counter.

I frowned at it in his outstretched palm.

It was a key. Old and rusted.

My soul skipped as I took a hopeful guess as to what it was.

“Our cabin?” I asked, not daring to breathe.

Knox nodded curtly. “It is yours, actually. Name’s on the title.”

My head snapped up. “Add yours? It’s ours?”

His lip twitched. He was doing more of that. Almost smiling. Being more expressive. “Yes, ma’am.”

And more of that. Deferring to me. Submitting to me in a way that managed to be alpha and irresistible all at once.

I stared at the key. He was giving me something infinitely special. Something precious. A chance to revisit the past. Not just ours but the treasured past with my grandmother. The ability to relive it. Honor it. He was offering me a different future. One that already felt like the perfect fit

“About the names…” I grasped the key in my hand. It felt much heavier than it really was. Maybe because of the past and futures it contained.

“I have a birthday request,” I whispered, nerves crawling up my throat, making it impossible to speak any louder.

“Anything.” Knox didn’t hesitate.

Though I was afraid, I didn’t drop eye contact. “I’d like yours,” I said quietly.

I didn’t think Knox could be shocked, but I’d managed it.

His mouth was no longer twitched upward; it was slightly open, his expression entirely blank.

“My name, my heritage is not something I’m proud of,” he replied in an even tone.

“I’m not asking for your name because of your past,” I whispered. “I want it because ofourfuture.”

He didn’t say anything for a long time. Didn’t move. He stood as still as a statue, whereas I fidgeted with unease as I waited for his response, unable to ready any of his emotions.

“You want my name?” he repeated.

I nodded, trying to keep my composure. “I would like to be your wife.”

There it was. The thing I wanted more than anything.

“You’re my everything,” he growled. “You don’t need a ceremony and a contract for that. A contract steeped in traditions of trading women like livestock.”

I didn’t even try to hide my smile at Knox’s feminist argument against marriage.

I folded my arms in front of me. “Yet here I am, wanting to be yours. By law.”

“I don’t adhere to the laws of this country,” he reminded me harshly.

“So that’s a no?” I asked, trying to fight back the need to burst into tears.

He glared at me. “Of course, it’s not a fucking no.”

Then he kissed me. Hard.

And just like that, we were engaged.

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