Page 34 of Thorns Laced In Blood

I covered her body, keeping her warm, safe and moving inside her—a reminder to us both. We would never be over. I nuzzled into her damp hairline, inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo from our bath the night before. She sighed against my chest and wrapped her arms around my waist. My eyes snapped open when her pussy contracted around me again. I gently kissed her forehead, slipping my arm around her waist to hold her tightly. She buried her face into my neck, clinging to me.

Forever with this woman wasn’t enough.

???

Guilt ate away at me when her stomach rumbled. I cleaned her up and tucked her into bed before I went downstairs to make us breakfast. I took up toast, omelette, and tea, but since I was the cause of her hunger, I added some toast with peanut butter and sliced bananas. I didn’t know what she took in her tea, so I added milk and sugar to the tray.

When I reached the bedroom doorway, she was sitting up and staring at the window. I nudged the door open, and she turned to face me. Her eyes were soft, her cheeks glowing, and when she saw the mountain of food, she hid her smile with a shyness that made my heart stutter.

I noticed her bear was in the bed beside her, and for a fraction of a second, insane jealousy of a stuffed toy burned the pit of my stomach. I’d killed humans. So why was I plotting murder against fabric and fluff? To hide my shame, I smiled widely at her. She would stab and run if she ever discovered the depths of my darkness.

No, she was mine, and I aimed to ensnare her the way she had me.

I would use every low-life bastard trick in the book, and if that didn’t work, I would write a new book.

Chapter 21

Maeve

The fear of the unknown had prevented me from trying harder to escape. The fear of being caught and punished kept me silently bound to the devil. In one morning, Master made me feel beautiful and human. His words pushed my self-doubt and fear to the far recesses of my mind. He wasn’t a normal human, but neither was I. He had fewer scars than me, but he knew pain and emotional torment.

I gazed out the window, seeing the high wall Master had promised me. He didn’t tell me about the rows of curled barbed wire on top of it. The sky was clear, and the sun shone into the room. I inhaled the scent of us as I heard his footsteps coming up the stairs. An echo of the past made me shiver, but I was no longer in his basement.

He left me speechless when he gently washed me with a damp towel, tossing it aside to tuck me into bed before putting his shorts on and rushing downstairs to make us breakfast. Tears welled up at the door he left open. I remembered all his words when he encouraged me to explore the house and vast gardens. I was free, and I was safe, not something that I was used to. My fingers squeezed Bear, hoping this wasn’t a cruel dream and I was still in the grey basement.

The door jerked open, and I stared at him.

My Master.

My saviour.

My eyes dropped to the tray he held, which was loaded with enough food for days. I covered my smile, remembering how hard he made me cum not so long ago. It was strange. I thought I would hate men. All men.

How could a man make my stomach flutter the way he did? Why did I trust him?

I pursed my lips, trying to stop the tears, when I saw he had cut my toast into four bite-sized pieces. Not even my mother did that for me. I closed my eyes because that was a shit comparison.

“You don't like bananas, or is it the peanut butter?” he asked.

I swallowed the lump in my throat; shaking my head, I picked up the whole wheat toast and took a bite of it. The taste of the soft, sweet banana with the salty, smooth peanut butter made me look up at him. His smile dimmed, and he wiped my tears for the second time.

“Milk or sugar in your tea?” he asked casually, and I was grateful he did not make a fuss about my overwrought state.

I shook my head, taking a larger bite of the crispy toast.

“You take your tea black?” he asked with a heavy dose of scepticism and a bitchy eyebrow raised that nearly hit his hairline. “What are you? My ninety-year-old nan?”

I choked on my toast and grabbed the tea, but he was beside me, tilting me over and rubbing my back.

“Maybe you need my nan’s dentures to learn how to chew,” he muttered, but he didn't stop rubbing my back.

I took a sip of my tea and sighed at the strong black brew. “Thank you,” I whispered.

He paused and stroked my hair. I watched him from the corner of my eye as he sniffed it. I worried for a moment, thinking that I stank. My showers were limited in the basement, but Master’s eyes were closed. He moved around to climb on the bed, and I quickly smelled my hair, but all I could smell was floral shampoo.

Did he enjoy smelling my hair?

He tucked into his toast and omelette, pushing my plate toward me. I didn't remember the taste of food after the accident. Master started to chat about today's plan. He talked about his work. I don't think he mentioned it before. He had a private security firm. I relaxed because I knew the barbed wire wasn't here to keep me in—I think.

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