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She looks up, eyebrows furrowed.

“What?” I ask.

“Why are you being so sweet?”

Fair. We’ve had our share of hostile encounters. I’d forced my cock in her mouth. The way I took her virginity. My drunken late-night fucks.

“You deserve to be cherished,” I confess. “Treated like a queen. It’s okay to want it hard, but it’s also okay to let someone take care of you.” I slide my hand behind her neck, pulling our foreheads together. “Let me take care of my mate.”

“Can I take care of you, too?” she asks.

“Fuck yes.”

Imogene’s hand falls between us, gripping my cock. I feel huge against the spread of her fingers, desperate because I fight the urge to come the second she touches me. She jacks me, thumb grazing over the sticky tip, and it becomes hard to breathe.

“Baby, that feels so good.” My eyes are cast down, watching her work me, watching those perfect tits sway between us. I look up and capture her mouth with mine. “I want to be inside. Feel you around me. It’s been so fucking long.”

Lifting again, she rests a hand on my shoulder and angles herself with the tip of my cock, pressing me to her entrance. My balls quiver, it’s been so long since I’ve had this woman. Felt her skin, smelled her scent, had her this close and I don’t want it to go too fast, but I also know that door is going to open at any minute and reality’s going to come rushing back in.

Imogene sets the pace, lowering herself, taking me in, inch by inch. With my eyes closed, my hands hold onto her hips, reveling in the feel of her, how her walls hug me tight. We sit like that for a long moment, just feeling one another. I open my eyes and find her watching me.

“What’s wrong?”

“Did you mean it?” she asks. “What you said in there.”

That I love her.

“I meant it.” Fuck yes, I meant it.

“How do you know? Are you sure it wasn’t just the moment? The stress of the situation?” She frowns. “It’s okay if that’s what happened. I won’t get upset.”

I rest my hand on her lower back, pulling her as close as possible, which is pretty fucking close since my cock is buried inside of her. “We’re connected, Imogene. Physically and emotionally. Hard against soft, lost against broken.” I move my hips, barely, softly. “He can drive us apart, force us to hurt one another, banish and abuse.” Moving faster now, but with restraint, I kiss her breast, licking a hot trail to her neck. “He can do whatever he wants, but ultimately, we’re bonded. We’re mates. We’ve probably been so since that day on the cliff, two messed up kids, traumatized from losing our mothers.”

She shifts against me, arms linked around my neck. Nose to nose, I stare into her eyes, willing her to believe me. I didn’t agree to a mate because I wanted love. But I found it anyway. In this beautiful girl writhing on top of me.

The room fills with the sound of our breath, the slip-slide of our bodies, the whisper of our voices. I tell her again. “I love you,” warm on her ear, for only her to hear. And when I fill her with my seed, hot cum, buried deep inside, I vow anew to get her out of here.

Sagging onto me, bodies still connected, she looks up and says, “Silas…”

I shake my head. There’s only one reason my father left us alone. He had business to attend to. Silas is already gone. My father will not abide by his betrayal.

Next, he’ll come for me. This time together? It’s another game, a way to lull me into thinking I have the slightest thread of control. That if I work with him, we can come to an agreement, but I know my father. He’s biding his time before he banishes me for good. All that will be left is the prize he truly wants.

I’m selfish enough not to let him have her.

13

Levi

The squeal and hiss of the city bus outside jolts me awake—but it’s not like I was sleeping very deeply. The noises are different here. Mechanical. Loud.Secular. The bus came by several times overnight, along with the constant passing of cars. The lights flashing in the window a constant reminder that I’m not home. That I’ve been Banished.

It’s more than the distractions though. My brain won’t shut off, not with so much at stake. I keep going over my plan again and again, looking for loopholes. Mistakes.

The springs in the bed next to mine creak, straining from Elon’s weight. The upstairs of Camille’s bungalow has spare rooms. Twin beds in each bland, nondescript room. The drawers are filled with extra clothing—clearly for people with no possessions—people on the run.

We’re refugees.

Dressing in a worn T-shirt and loose sweatpants that I find in the drawer, I leave Elon to get more rest. It’s the first full night’s sleep he’s had since being Banished. The first night without a fight down at the bar, trying to scrounge together enough money for us to survive. I wonder if they noticed. I wonder if the people in Serendee notice us being gone. Are we missed? Or are we just a reminder of what could happen to anyone that breaks the rules.