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There's burnt cupcakes sitting on the stove, and frosting on her cheek, including a stream of run-off mascara telling me she took the time to cry. She's not even reading she's staring blankly at the e-reader. Not a muscle in her body moves. I can't even see the rise and fall of her chest.
She looks… catatonic.
“Miss Winters?”
Nothing.
Fuck, she's scaring me.
“Brina?”
Nothing.
“Baby?”
She blinks. “Hmm?”
“Miss Winters.”
Her head pops up, and she looks at me, eyes finally focusing. “Hey.”
“You baking?”
Green eyes scan the room, then she shakes her head. “Uh, no. It was a failed mission,” she jokes but… it's not in her. There's no life in her. No emotion. “I really have to move in with him, don't I?”
“‘Fraid so.”
“I don't want that.”
Neither do I.
“It's one year, Miss Winters.”
Her eyes snap to mine, and God, she looks beautiful – dazed and a little lost, but nonetheless as beautiful as the first day I saw her. “It's a marriage contract, Savage. It's forlife.”
I shake my head, having been thinking about this for the past six months. “One year. He gets his money plus ten percent. You don't owe him anything else.”
Her brows scrunch together. “I won't owe him anything else.” She repeats.
I'm called from the second floor by a panicking Tildy, dressed in a pale pink gown. "What is it?"
"She's asking for you," Tildy says. They're all outside of the bridal room, and Raven looks anxious – a little helpless when her eyes connect to mine. She's wearing her maid of honor dress, a pale, pink slinky thing that fits her well.
"What happened?" I ask her and her hands fly up too quickly.
They finished her hair and makeup, and it was time to put on her dress but she... froze. She's paralyzed. I've never seen her like this before. I don't know how to help her. I'm so worried. She asked for you, almost screaming your name. You have to help her.Raven sniffs.
I give her a nod as I knock on the door, stride in without waiting for an answer, and shut it behind me. She's standing behind a chair, the top of it reaching her waist, in a white, satin robe. Her hands grip the antique wood, breathing erratically.
"Brina?” But that doesn't bring her back to me. “Baby?" I whisper.
She looks up, red-rimmed eyes locking on mine, and I swear – I swear – my heart stops beating as she stands to her full height.
"Savage," she says my name like a plea, and I run to her –myblushing bride. But this blush isn't due to happiness, and she's not mine. I catch her in my arms as she falters, and a sob escapes her chest, but there are no tears. God she’s fucking shaking so hard, like she’s been caught in a blizzard for days. "Say it for me because I don't think I can."
I know what she's asking for, but I can't bring myself to do it, not while she's letting me hold her. Not when she's finally in my arms. My heart is breaking, because I know it'smewho should be on that altar, and I can't bring myself to give her away. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.
I’ll share her before I ever let her go. I’d rather own half of her heart than none at all.