Page 84 of Property of Bones

He stares at me for a long second… and then he smiles. Just a little.

“That pink cut better come with a damn matching leash,” he mutters. “Seems like it’s the only way to rein you in.”

“How about a bracelet instead?” I offer with a grin.

“I’ve got a better idea,” he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“What could possibly be better than a bracelet?” I tease. “Bracelets are subtle. Chic. Plus, people wouldn’t dare look at your wrist without your permission.”

I giggle at my own joke, fully expecting him to roll his eyes or toss back something equally sarcastic.

He doesn’t.

Instead, Jack drops down on one knee.

Right there. No warning. Just boom. Knees to the floor, big strong hands wrapping around mine like they were made to hold them.

“A ring,” he says simply. “You’re right, Sunny. You do own me. Heart. Soul. Sanity. It’s all yours.”

My breath catches.

“I wantyouto claimme.Not with a patch. Not with a bracelet. With a ring. Mark your territory. Marry me.”

My world tilts.

The air disappears.

And all I can do is stare down at this terrifying, beautiful man who has skinned people alive and just asked me to be his wife like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Wow,” I whisper.

Because yeah.Wow.

“That’s not an answer, beautiful,” Jack says, smiling just enough to make one of those scars tug at the corner of his mouth.

God help me, eventhatis hot.

“No,” I blurt. His brow twitches. “I mean…yes! No, as in you’re right…it wasn’t an answer. Butyesto the actual thing. I’ll marry you!”

He exhales, slow and deep like someone just released the pressure valve on his entire soul.

“Yeah?” he asks, voice low and full of something that cracks my heart wide open.

“Yeah,” I say, nodding so hard my ribs protest. “I’ll marry the scary man with the face scars and the pink leash obsession.”

His chuckle rumbles low in his chest as he stands, then leans down, pressing his forehead gently to mine.

“Good,” he murmurs, voice rough with emotion and satisfaction. “Because I already put the ring on your finger.”

What?

I blink. “How did you…?”

But then I look down.

And gasp.

Because sitting there onmyfinger, like it’s always belonged, is a ring. Not dainty. Not delicate. It’s bold. Strong. Gorgeous. Just like him.

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