Wilder’s hand traced the bandage on my shoulder. “What happened here?”
“Vamp attack and don’t change the subject.”
“Fine,” he huffed as he untangled himself from me and sat up.
I pouted as he moved away but I didn’t pull him back. He needed to feel like he had some control, even if it was an illusion.
He wasn’t going anywhere without me ever again.
“I think your father is involved with the people who were holding the wendigo and he’s tried to get into your house,” I said as I sat up next to him. I reached into the bedside tableand pulled out a couple of bottles of water, chucking one over to Wilder.
He cracked it open and gulped half of it down. I watched his Adam’s apple bob has he swallowed and wondered what his throat would look like when I fucked it.
“What would he want with a wendigo?” Wilder asked as he swiped away a rogue droplet of water with his thumb. Could this man be any sexier?
I’d had the same thought about the wendigo myself. What would anyone want with a wendigo? “To clean up a particular mess? For power maybe?”
“Possibly,” Wilder mused as he ran a hand through his hair. “They’re as rare as Shadow Witches.”
“Have you figured out how you feel about that yet?”
“Nope. I’m not sure what to make of it. Guess we will all know more next week when I turn twenty-five.” He gnawed on his bottom lip and stared out at the space in front of him but not really seeing anything.
I cupped his chin and turned his eyes towards mine. “You do know I will protect you with everything I have, don’t you?”
He frowned so hard two little lines appeared between his brows. “Why?”
“Why what?” I asked as my thumb swept back and forth across his bottom lip. I couldn’t seem to stop myself from touching him.
“Why do you want to protect me?” His violet eyes were big and wide and full of innocence. I knew Wilder wasn’t innocent. He was far from it, actually, and often a mischievous little shit, but there was something about the way he was looking at me, all doe-eyed, that had me wanting to ask him to run.
“Because something inside me decided you are mine.”
“That simple, huh?”
I nodded and brushed an errant lock of hair away from his forehead. He was pretty like this. Mussed up from sleep. Relaxed. “It is for me. Psychopath, remember?”
“Oh, I remember.” He pointed to the tattoo on his neck. “You branded me.”
A possessive spike drove through my core at the word ‘branded.’ “The bruises and bite marks will fade but that won’t. I wanted something permanent to show the world that you belong to me.”
He looked skyward, and an exasperated sigh burst through his lips. “Whatever happened to a traditional engagement ring?”
I grabbed his chin and pulled his eyes back to mine. “Is that what you want? I’ll go and get one now.”
I didn’t care if it was Christmas. I’d get one if that’s what he wanted.
“What? No!” He batted my hand away. “I was just trying to rationalise whatever this is.”
I chuckled. “That’s going to be impossible. There’s nothing rational here, baby. I want you because there’s a vulnerability in you that calls to the hunter in me. I want you to run so I can chase you down and claim you, even though, no matter how far you run, I will always find you. I want you to always bear the marks of our fucking because knowing that you submitted to me, that you let me do what I want to you because you’ve literally put your life in my hands, feels like a gift, Wilder.”
He blinked at me as his whole body flushed and his pupils dilated. “That’s… nice?”
I smiled down at him and cupped his jaw, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. “I’m not nice, Wilder. The only reason we aren’t on my private island is because it’s Christmas and Bishop gave my pilot some time off.”
A soft sigh brushed against my lips before Wilder pulled back. “Wait. Private island? That’s real?”
I reached forward and scraped my teeth along his jawline revelling in the way he shuddered deliciously. I’d never get enough of the way he reacted to me. “Mm-hmm. I bought it a few years ago and I’m going to take you there to keep you away from your father.”