Page 78 of Iron Cross

Then that soothing touch again. That hand over the belly that was rounded and softer than before, to hips that were wider over thicker thighs.

I was shaking from fear, regret, and pain. The tears I was fighting tumbled down my cheeks.

The image of Aoibheann’s broken skin, the blood, the scars that marked her entire body flashed through my mind. I tried to keep my fear at bay, but my heart sank.

I knew it’d be my turn. He was angry, and he’d… he’d…

I tried to stand still. As still as he wanted me to, but I trembled so much. I tried to breathe, to calm myself down, but I was so, so scared. So scared of what he would do to me. How he’d take his anger out on me. Or perhaps, he’d take hisloveout on me, and make me regret every choice, and every wasted year.

“You won’t leave me again.” I looked down and all I could see was that golden hair. The beautiful, soft, golden hair partedon the side, and curling softly over his ears. “You won’t… put yourself in that kind of danger again. Do you understand?”

I nodded, though I knew he couldn’t see me.

But how could I keep such a promise whenhewas the danger in the dark? When he was the one who could hurt us the most.

But I didn’t think my response mattered. He continued without pause.

“Three years I’ve lost.” He kissed my belly again. “Two years of my son’s life I will never get.”

He lifted his eyes then, and I saw his face. Where I expected fire, there was nothing but sorrow. His eyes were shiny with unshed tears, his blond lashes stuck together by the wetness.

He came to stand before me, his hands holding me against him, my naked breasts grazing his hard pecs.

“You won’t rob me again.” I could feel the venom dripping from his voice. The bitterness that I had put there. That I would pay for.

He kissed my forehead, just as he had done all those years ago. Back when he had charmed me into his grasp. The gesture destroyed my resolve. My shaking started in earnest, and my breath ragged. I started shaking my head. I put my hands on his chest to try to push him away but I had no strength. I had nothing left but my trembling.

“Please,” I tried to say, but it came back like a frightened whimper. I had no strength left. I was so tired. So scared. I hadno fucking pride. Not when it came to me. My son. My survival. “I’m sorry… Eoghan… I’m…”

“Shh,” he said against my lips. “Don’t. Provoke. Me.”

His warning did the trick. He said it so quietly, casually like he was talking about the weather but I could feel the hard edge as if he ran a barbed edge against my skin.

I started to cry. Not a few solitary tears, but whimpers that bubbled from my throat.

“I am still a monster, sweet Muse,” he said, his lips grazing the numbed skin of the scar, but I felt every bit of it. “I am still the man you ran from, but…”

He paused, his voice heavy and deep with so much emotion that thrilled and frightened me in equal measure.

Would he cut me? Whip me? Mark me like his father had done to Aoibheann? Was I strong enough to endure? I had to be. For my son. But God… I was so scared. But beneath that fear was something else. Something sinister and shameful that pooled in my lower belly and made me rub my thighs together. Heat and moisture in the space between us.

“Shhh,” he soothed, his hand coming to stroke my cheek, before he came up and licked my tear away. “No more of these, Kira.” He planted a chaste kiss on my lips. “No more fear, no more distance.” He bit my lower lip and sucked the pain away. “You loved me once.” He licked the tears from my other cheek. “You love me still.”

His words struck me where he intended. Like a knife through my heart. It was true. I loved him. I had never stopped. I had confessed as much to Aaron Jackson, and told the truth to the man I had sought to hide myself from.

“You’re mine,” he said, and his breath ran down my temple where more tears ran.

He took his hand into the space between us, and I heard the unbuckling of his belt. Then the pop of a button. The slide of a zipper. Fuck. He was going to fuck me, right now. Right here.

“Don’t,” I whined, still rooted, unable to move. My body was paralyzed and out of my control. Of course it was. It was never mine to begin with. It was his. “Someone might come in and see.”

It was no use pretending that Cillian would wake up. Once he was down for a nap, he’d be out for at least two hours, like clockwork. He was a boy with a predictable sleep schedule - a blessing in every possible way.

“It’s my house. And I’m fucking mywife. I don’t care who sees.”

I felt his tip grazing between my folds, picking up the moisture that was there. He gasped at the feel of it. My wetness was a confession of my dark desires. I wanted this. No matter how scared I was, he was my greatest desire.

“Eoghan…” I wanted to be strong. To say his name as a warning, but it came out like a prayer. “Don’t.”

---