Page 38 of Silverproof Damsel

“I’m with you, Van Helsing. Should I fear for my safety?” Lifting one brow in silent challenge, I felt my bravado cracking like an eggshell as his lips curled into a disarming smile.

“That depends on you and how well you behave for me, Remington.” Rhys’ eyes sparkled with something wicked. It caused a pulse to start between my thighs, one that caused me to squirm beneath the intensity of his stare. “If not, you’ll find out how ruthless I am to protect those beneath my vow of protection. That includes protecting them from themselves.”

“Is that so?” I asked, then gasped as Rhys slid into my seat, lifting me in a smooth, well-practiced move. One moment, I’d been sitting by myself, the next, I was in his lap. “What are you doing?”

My voice escaped like a sultry breath of air. Rhys’ hand slid around my abdomen, even as his lips brushed against the flesh beneath my ear.

“Whatever the fuck I want,” he murmured as a wicked laugh heated against my throat. “I want to know why your shoulder isn’t healing. You used heat, yet you burned. I want to know why it didn’t work.”

A violent shiver raced down my spine as he used his legs to spread mine. The dress I wore was long, much like the one he’d dressed me in during the dreamscape. Cool air drifted up the skirt of it, merely fueling the fire of my ardor.

“I don’t know why it didn’t heal. I’ve never had a burn before,” I admitted. It seemed to appease him, at least for now. “Why am I in your lap?”

“Because I want you there,” he admitted, his husky timbre causing goosebumps to spread from my head to my toes. “You are squirming. If I recall, you enjoyed sitting in my lap.”

Heat spread from my chest to my throat, then burned my cheeks. Blinking slowly, I fought against the images his words produced inside my mind. The last time I’d sat in his lap, I’d been naked, and he’d been using my hips to seat himself deeper inside of me.

“I believe your exact words were that it was your favorite thing to sit on,” he purred, causing my nipples to pebble painfully erect, craving Rhys’ mouth and touch more than I’d ever wanted anything else before.

“I was naïve before. Remember?” I returned coolly, knowing I couldn’t concede defeat or falter in my resolve. Rhys hadn’t apologized or even attempted to make amends for what he’d done to me. I’d be damned if I allowed him to have his cake and eat it, too. “I’m not that easy anymore, Rhys.” The laughter he released was dangerous, causing my stomach to churn with uneasiness.

“That’s unfortunate. It’s going to make your accommodations, rather . . . difficult on both of us.” His nose drifted down my throat, making my pussy flutter with need.

Swallowing past the longing swelling in my throat, I asked, “Why is that?”

Using the hand that wasn’t doubling as a seatbelt over my waist, he pulled down the suit jacket around my shoulders. Rhys’ heated breath against my skin forced my eyes to flutter closed.

Rhys’ hand around my waist lifted until his palm cradled my breast. The other drifted to my neck, long, tapered fingers threaded through my hair before jerking my head back until his mouth pressed against my ear.

“You’re sleeping in my bed. If I am to protect you, you’ll need to be close to me. I won’t chance something happening when I rest, meaning you’ll sleep when I sleep. You’ll wake when I wake, and you’ll be my fucking shadow.”

My lips parted as his thumb and finger pinched, then rolled my sensitive nipple between them. Arousal flooded my core, already burning hot with need. This asshole knew exactly how to turn me on. He knew what I enjoyed and was using it against me like a weapon of choice.

“How long?”

“Until you’re riding my cock like a good girl? I give it a day or so of you playing hard to get, Love.”

“Until I don’t have to be your fucking shadow,” I whispered as his hand freed my oversensitive peak to slide down my abdomen. A moan threatened to escape past my lips as he kneaded my pussy with his palm.

“Until the threat has been handled, or I say otherwise.” He slid out from beneath me without warning, sliding back to his seat as the door flung open, revealing we’d arrived at the Van Helsing mansion. “Welcome home, little one.”

“It’s not my home,” I whispered breathlessly as my chest rose and fell with labored breathing. I felt as if I’d run a mile without ever stepping forward. That was how Rhys’ attention felt, electrifying and intense as he forced every nerve to tense within my frame.

“Unless I choose otherwise, it is. As my silver, you’re mine. You are mine as surely as if you and I walked down the aisle and joined together in matrimony. So, as I said. Welcome home—”

“That’s not how this works. You can’t just marry me without marrying me. That’s insane, Rhys! My last name is Silversmith, not Van Helsing!”

“You can use whatever surname you’d like, Remington. It doesn’t change the matter of what your legal and binding name is now. The moment I initiated my right to you was the moment you became mine in name as well as soul. In our world, you are either my wife or my property. That choice is yours to make. Either way, in the world of immortals, you belong to me and only me. That’s the world we live in. You invoked my vow of protection, meaning you’ve accepted your place as my silver,” he explained.

“That isn’t right.”

Was he fucking serious right now? I’d called in his vow, but I hadn’t intended to invoke shit. This connection we shared went deeper than I understood or ever would. I had done the only thing I could think of to protect Bullet. I hadn’t thought invoking his protection would force me to serve him on my knees or as his wife.

“You don’t even like me!”

“Oh, sweet girl. Who the fuck said I don’t like you? If anything, I like you too fucking much. I like you on your back, on your knees, and I love the way you scream my name as a fervent prayer when you come around my cock.” My lips parted as the sound of someone clearing their throat registered in my ears.

Turning away from Rhys with my jaw still hanging open, I discovered Cole’s glittering eyes as he fought to conceal the amusement at my discomfort.

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