Page 156 of Desperate People

“Lucy, I love you,” I tell her.

“I know you do. And I love you,” she says. “And I don’t ever want you to doubt it. Understand? I choose you. Only you.”

The heat in my chest shifts, becoming something else.

Not rage.

Something worse.

Or better.

Pride.

Love.

Possession.

“So, you gonna stay? With me?” I ask, voice low, rough with emotion I haven’t let myself feel since I tore his throat open.

She smiles. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t brand me and hunt me down if I left you, Balor Cruz. I know exactly who you are.”

“Oh, yeah? You think so?”

“Oh, I know so. You’re just lucky I happen to love you.”

I laugh, but it’s a broken sound. Caught up as I am in my feelings for this goddess of a woman, it’s a miracle I can speak at all.

“Angel, you have no idea how lucky I am.”

But I already know. And I’m about to show her.

“You’re mine. Every fucking inch of you.”

Her eyes shine. “Good. Because I already told you. I’m not going anywhere.”

She curls against me again, her fingers sliding into my hair, her lips brushing my jaw.

And for the first time since this nightmare started, my breathing evens out, and my thoughts turn to her.

She’s alive.

She’s mine.

And I’ll never let anyone come between us again.

Not even myself.

Chapter Forty-One-Lucy

It’s been six weeks since that horrible incident, and really, I want nothing more than to put it behind me.

But Balor’s been treating me like spun glass—fragile, delicate, like I might shatter if he looks at me too long.

And I swear to God, if that man doesn’t come to his senses soon, I’m going to kick his fine, overprotective ass.

Lucky for me, I have a slew of cousins who are all too happy to offer support, backup, and a little scheming.

Today? We’re calling it a spa day.

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