Page 92 of The Vigilant

“Trust me, little wasp,” I murmured. “Trust me to take care of you.”

This wasn’t about breaking her. This was like when the knights of old would bend a knee to their king and present their sword as a sign of submission. I didn’t want to break her of her fight; I just wanted her to choose to fight for me.

Goose bumps scattered over her skin as she let out a tremulous exhale. “Scorpius constellations.”

“Tell me why,” I coaxed and circled my finger around the swell of her breast, moving closer and closer to her nipple but never touching it no matter how she tried to arch into it.

It was common knowledge that people were afraid of the unknown. For many, violence and murder and grief and pain were the unknowns that made them shudder. But for some—the unlucky some who were acclimated to hurt and danger and defensiveness—it was tenderness and the risk of trusting that made them wary.

She whimpered, but I wouldn’t give in. Not without her answer.

“The legend,” she started, her voice threaded with something more than desire. “Orion boasted he would kill every animal on earth, and in retaliation, Apollo sent a scorpion to kill him.” She sighed in relief when I thumbed her pierced nipple. “Artemis, who favored Orion, asked Zeus to lift him to the sky, which he did, but Zeus lifted the scorpion, too. Now, Orion hunts the sky every winter night but flees come summer when the scorpion appears—ahh.”

I pinched her nipple, feeling the firmness of her piercing between the softness of her tender skin.

“Tynan…”

I growled.

“Daddy,” she whimpered.

The word unlocked my hand, and it closed over her breast. “And is that what you are? The scorpion who chases men who prey on women?”

I was no mythology scholar, but from what little there was written about the great huntsman, there remained a story of him assaulting a woman.

Her eyes sprung open, the dark orbs crystal clear like the surface of the ocean at night.

“Yes.”

Something flickered in the depths, but it was impossible to fully see it before it was gone.

“There’s more.” I rolled her nipple between my fingers, watching her practically melt into my touch.

Goddamn, she put up all these walls and layers, but as soon as she let me in, she was so fucking warm and soft and supplicant.

“Please, Daddy…”

“What else?” I pinched her nipple hard, savoring the way her gasp bit into the thick air. “You don’t get two scorpion tattoos framing your tits and a giant one inked to the whole of your back for mythology—for legend. Why do you have them?”

Pain etched her features, and it wasn’t from the way I tweaked her nipple. “Please…”

Rage seeded into my blood along with the thought—the suspicion of what I was missing. “Who hurt you?”

She fought to not answer me, her lips twitching with the effort to stay silent even though the rest of her body begged for release.

I tipped closer to her and let my hand slide slowly from her breast down her torso as I rasped low, “Who hurt you, little wasp?”

Her gaze shimmered when it found mine. “Every man I should’ve been able to trust.”

My hand stopped just above her pussy, but before I could say anything else, her next words destroyed me. “Every man except you, Daddy.”

“Fuck…” Air streamed through my lips, and I delved my fingers between her thighs, finding her soaked and her clit swollen and needy. One stroke over the tender bud, and she grabbed my arms for support. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me. So fucking turned on when I make you tell me your secrets. When I make you open up for me.”

Her nails dug into my skin, and I knew there’d be deep marks, if not scabs, in the morning.Good.I wanted her to mark me the same way I marked her.

I dipped my head, my mouth finding a spot close to her ear. “I’m going to taste your secrets from these lips now.”

I pushed one finger into her tight channel, my cock leaking again with how good she felt, and then I removed it, reveling in the way she clung to me.

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