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I kiss her forehead, then her nose, then her lips, before slowly pulling my cock out of her. A small moan escapes her at the sudden loss, and a thick smear of my seed leaks onto her inner thigh.

Goddamn it.

I gather her into a little ball on her back and hold her like that against me, her knees to her chest, with no possibility of any more of my cum escaping her.

She buries her face into the crook of my neck, her cast resting comfortably on her chest. I stroke her legs, trailing my fingers up and down her thighs, letting her feel the absolute, unshakeable safety of being held by the man who owns her.

She’s mine. Truly, completely, irreversibly mine. My home. My entire future.

I’m just closing my eyes, letting the heavy peace of the moment settle into my bones, when a sharp, jarring noise breaks the silence.

From the floor inside my pants, my phone begins to ring.

I ignore it.

It rings again.

She pulls back. “You should answer it.”

Motherfucker. Reluctantly releasing her, I get up and take my phone out of my pocket and glance at the screen.

Dragan.

The last thing I want is a job that’s going to take me away from Cora, but he’s going to keep calling until I pick up.

“What?” I answer curtly.

But Dragan isn’t calling about another job.

I listen, my mood growing darker by the second, until I finally snap, “No. Never. Cora is not doing that.”

23

Cora

Zevran’s mood shifts the second he presses that phone to his ear. I can feel the change in the air, like someone just threw open a window in the middle of winter.

A moment ago, he was holding me bundled against his chest, tracing his fingers up my thighs to keep them tucked together, his mouth warm against my forehead. Now he’s standing naked by the foot of the bed, his broad back to me, the dark ink of his tattoos standing out against his pale skin. His muscles are corded tight. I see red nail marks that I didn’t realize I scored into his flesh.

I pull the heavy duvet up to my chin, my body throbbing and thoroughly claimed from what we just did on these sheets. My legs are heavy with blissful exhaustion, but the lingering peace in the room evaporates with every second Zevran stays silent.

Zevran’s jaw is tight. When he finally speaks, his voice is that clipped, icy register he uses when he’s in his world.

This is what it’s like, I realize, a fierce ache in my chest. Loving a man like him whose world is a constant war.

Then he says my name in a dangerous, protective snarl.

“No. Never. Cora is not doing that.”

I blink, sitting up slightly in the bed and holding the sheets to my chest.

He hangs up. For a moment he just stands there with his phone in his hand and his jaw set. His face closes completely. Every door shut, every window locked.

“Zevran?” I ask softly.

He puts his phone on the nightstand, climbs right back onto the bed, and pulls me straight into his lap. He kisses me instead, his large hand coming up to cup my face, his thumb stroking my cheekbone. My brain goes completely offline because it’s him. His mouth, his kisses, the demanding swipe of his tongue over my lower lip. He holds me so tight against his bare chest that I can feel every hard line of his body, sheltering me from whatever just came through that phone.

Then I pull back just enough to catch my breath. “Zevran?”