Page 120 of Slayin Villain
It felt like we burned the past behind us, right then and there.
The party was one for the books.Thorn strummed on his guitar while Ember sang a sultry ballad, her voice raw, honest, almost peaceful for the first time in forever.She didn’t say it out loud, but Thorn was hers now.Everyone knew it.
Rome?Long gone.Maybe he’d outlived his usefulness.Maybe he was dead.If Villain killed him, I didn’t want to know.That was club business.None of mine.
Thorn?Solid as stone, never leaving her side.
Before we cut the cake, Ember slipped me a folded note.
Thank you for making him better.He was always yours.
I kept it tucked in my boot the rest of the night like a damn talisman.
We didn’t go far.Just far enough.
A private cabin nestled high in the Smokies.No cell service.No brothers knocking.No Sweet Tea sticking her nose in.Just pine trees, mountain air, and the man who’d wrecked me, then rebuilt me with his bare hands.
He carried me over the threshold like a classic fairytale, slammed the door behind us with his boot, and tossed his cut over the antler coat rack.
“You ready to be ruined for life, wife?”he drawled.
I was already tugging at the buttons of his shirt.
“You gonna talk the whole time or…”
He kissed me mid-sentence, hands diving under my dress.I wasn’t wearing anything beneath it, hadn’t been all damn day.
His fingers found proof of that.
“Fuck,” he growled.“You tryna kill me?”
“Only if I get to go with you.”
He lifted me, walked me straight into the wall, pressing me against the wood with his body, hard and hungry.
“I waited too long for this,” he whispered into my throat.“Dreamed about this since you disappeared.”
“I’m here now,” I gasped.“So shut up and take me.”
He did.
Hours later, I was tangled with him on black satin sheets, my skin damp and glowing.
“I’m yours,” I told him, brushing sweat from his brow, still riding the aftershocks.
“You’ve always been mine,” he whispered into my hair.“I’ll spend every mile left in me proving it.”
He rolled to his side, pulling me against him like he couldn’t bear a single inch of space.
“Look,” I whispered, tapping his chest.
He had my name tattooed there, script in black and crimson, joining the one right over his heart.Still red and angry from the ink gun.
“You branded yourself,” I teased.
He cupped my face.“You branded my heart long before I got the ink.”
Just before we drifted off, he murmured.“We’ll build something real.A life.You, me, the baby.Both babies.Maybe more.”
