“I suppose.”

“You suppose?!”

“It’s a lot to get used to.”

I trace his cheekbone. He’s so beautiful and damaged, and he can work out complex operations in his head and do ultra-dangerous things that would put the fear of God in any normal mortal, but somebody doing something for him because they give a shit about him personally is beyond his comprehension. “He would do anything for you.”

“Maybe.”

I poke him in the chest. “No maybe about it.”

He clasps my hands in his. “I would do anything foryou. Because I love you.”

This bloom of happiness fills my heart. “I would do anything for you, too.” I kiss him, then I pull away. “After you apologize for handcuffing me to the bed.”

“What?”

I wrestle him to his back—or, more like, he lets me do it—and climb on top of him, looming over him. “You heard me.”

“Excuse me? I should apologize for cuffing youto the bed after you cuffedmeto the bed? Trying to make me miss my meeting?” He flips me over. “Not thankable.”

“Oh, it was thankable,” I say, looking up into his deep chocolatey eyes.

His mouth is all frowny and serious, but his eyes are smiling. “Everything with us is thankable, even the unthankable stuff.”

“Mind blown,” I whisper.

He kisses me. I lose myself deliciously in the kiss, deliciously in him, so growly and feral and full of life, and my last thought before my mind pretty much explodes with pleasure is that I’ll never get enough of him and his brutish, uncivilized ways.

Epilogue

LUKA

One month later

I set the third and final box of books in front of my bookcase.

Edie wanders over. She’s in her favorite light green dress and beige hat, hair curling softly around her heart-shaped face. “What are those?”

“I’ve been shopping,” I say to her. “Take a look.”

She opens up the box and gasps. “Books!”

“A man can’t have fake books on his bookshelf.”

She beams at me, delighted. “You know what this means.”

“What?

“We have to figure out categorization!”

We spend the afternoon putting the books in piles in what she calls preliminary categorization, and then we start filling the shelves.

It seems like a lifetime ago that I pulled her out of that fucking cage that psycho put her in.

We spent a few weeks searching for a seaside home for Edie to share with Mary. We ended up getting two side-by-side cottages,one for Mary and one for Edie and me for when we drive out from the city. As much as I’ve enjoyed getting to know Mary, I want privacy, especially since I plan to spend a good deal of time there doing things that require privacy.

I head around the kitchen island and start putting together a charcuterie board.