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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

DEACON

She’s fast asleep when I get out of bed. It’s the weekend, finally, and the ranch is quiet. The wranglers will have already taken care of chores—it’s almost eight. I need to get my ass outside and pull my weight.

She doesn’t stir when I roll her on her side and clip the leash to the hook above her clit. I’ll leave the chastity strap off so she can shower and use the toilet, but when she’s done, she gets it locked on for the rest of the day.

I kiss her forehead and clip the leash onto the bed and lock both ends. She can get to the bathroom easily but no further.

As I descend the stairs, I mull over yesterday night. I’ve always been careful when it comes to BDSM. I follow the rules because I like them, and they’re there for a reason. But in a situation as complex as Freya’s, they’ve become something of a shield. I’d rather she think I’m just being kinky than what I’m actually doing—keeping her safe.

Something is off with Aiden, beyond just being abusive. I can’t put my finger on it.

He’s fucking weird about Freya .

That’s why I won’t let her take her little bleeding heart back to his house. Whatever Bittern’s got going on, he’ll have to handle it himself. If I need to tie her up in the name of kink to keep her safe, I’m happy to do that.

It’s a win-win situation.

In the barn, I saddle up Bones. My mind turns over the weird case of Aiden Hatfield the entire time I’m out working. When I get back, I let Bones out into the paddock on the east side and walk back to the house. When I open the door, I hear a faint yapping.

In the living room, Stu is awake. He’s rolling around on the carpet in his kennel like he’s got an itch. I scoop him up and bring the collapsable pen outside so he can grub around in the grass for a while. It’s a little chilly but not too cold for him yet.

I wash my hands in the kitchen, knock the mud off my boots, and head upstairs. When I push open the door, she’s awake.

And she’s scowling.

Her hair is tousled, she’s still naked, but she’s got the blanket pulled up over her breasts. The silver chain trails up and disappears beneath it. I shut the door, and her eyes flick up, pale blue in the morning light pouring through the window.

“I can’t believe you,” she whispers.

“I said you weren’t leaving this ranch, and I meant it,” I say, crossing the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. “I need you to trust me on this one.”

I lean in, meaning to kiss her. She tilts her head. The air crackles. I know we’re both thinking about last night. I will be for a long time. It was the kind of intimacy I’ve only longed for but never experienced until now.

I kiss her. She lets me, parting her lips. We break apart.

“Fine,” she whispers. “I’ll do whatever this is, but you have to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

She dips her head, brow touching my chin. “Save Bittern.”

I have no plan, no idea where I go from here with the Hatfields, but I can’t deny her anything .

“I swear,” I say. “In return, you be a good girl and listen to me.”

She bites her lip, worrying it. “Fine.”

I kiss her temple and pull back the sheets to unlock the chain. When I pick her up, she wraps her arms around my neck. It hurts my chest, but I don’t know why. Maybe because it’s the first time she’s trusted anybody enough to wrap her arms around them unprompted.

We shower together. I get on my knees and wash the metal strands of the harness. It sits beautifully on her full hips, leaving no marks on her skin. She doesn’t move away when I lift one knee over my shoulder and put my mouth on her pussy.

Instead, she welcomes it. She leans against the wall and runs her fingers through my hair.

She strokes my jaw, my neck. Little moans echo in the shower stall. I lick her pussy until I feel her thigh tighten against my jaw. Her knuckles go white, nails digging into my skin.

When she comes, I push my tongue inside her pussy to feel her pleasure like a heartbeat.

I don’t fuck her. It’s not the right time. Instead, I dry her off carefully and have her stand while I clip the strap between her thighs. To my surprise, she doesn’t say a word about it. She likes this game.

I get her bra from the dresser and one of my flannels. It’s warm inside, but I know she gets cold easily, so I pull a pair of tall socks up her legs. It’s no burden for me—there’s nothing sexier than seeing Freya in a pair of thigh highs. Before I get up, I have to think about the dumbest shit I can to make my dick calm down.

“You hungry?”

She doesn’t move, arms wrapped around her body. My heart melts. She looks so lost and unsure.

“What’s wrong?”

Her chin trembles. “My insects,” she whispers. “My butterflies and moths.”

I pick her up and lift her into my lap .

“What’s wrong? You want them, I’ll go get them for you,” I say. “I’ll break in and get them while Aiden’s out.”

She shakes her head, lashes wet. “No, it’s all gone. Aiden got mad and smashed it. I know it’s silly, but it took me so many years to build that.”

I don’t speak. There’s an ugly, violent thing in my chest.

“I think that…broke my heart a little bit,” she whispers. “I can’t get over it.”

Hand on her head, I hold her tight. Her body shakes, her tears bleeding through my shirt. I hope my heart sounds even to her, because inside, rage like I’ve never felt pours through me. It’s not silly. It’s devastating.

Some things are sacred. This innocent little thing that brought her so much joy is one of those things.

I can’t fix this, but I can make sure Aiden pays.

I brush the hair from her temple. “You cry it out if you need to, sweetheart,” I say. “Then, let’s get dressed. I have something upstairs I want you to see.”

She lifts her tear-stained face. “Upstairs? We are upstairs.”

“There’s an attic.”

She wipes her face, brows creased, and sinks back against my chest. Her tears slow. Her body melts into me, and I feel her trust emerge. It’s like an animal crawling out of a cave, blinking in the sun, ready to shoot back inside at any second.

Trust, love—these things take time, but we’ll get there in the end.