Page 28

I ’m staring at the phone like it’s the fucking enemy while Onyx takes the fast route home— one of the back ways, less traffic, fewer eyes.

He sent her flowers.

That slimy little prick sent my wife flowers.

Motherfucker.

The moment the delivery hit our gate, my head of security messaged me. I knew before Lucy did.

I saw the name of the florist shop on the steady flow of information my security team enters into the log like clockwork.

All that info goes right to an app on my cell phone.

A little unhinged? Maybe.

And no, I’m not sorry about it because her safety is something I will never be lax on.

So, yeah, I look up the driver. See his route. It looks legit.

And I hold back. I let it happen.

Because if I start denying her things like deliveries, I'm no better than the monsters trying to own her for real.

And I’ll never be that. Not to her.

But don’t mistake restraint for indifference.

I’m barely keeping it together.

It’s not about trust. It’s about protection.

Because I still haven’t unmasked the bastard who broke into her apartment before our wedding.

I’ve chased shadows, scrubbed footage, traced IPs, and interrogated my own staff.

Whoever it was, they were fucking slick.

But now this?

Sending a bouquet of tiger lilies and a QR code with a song called “Ella es de él, pero yo la quiero.”

She's his, but I want her.

Fuck. No.

That little fame-hungry bastard is poking a sleeping beast.

He doesn’t realize that Lucy isn’t some influencer or a pop princess to chase around for clout.

She’s my wife.

Mine.

And I don’t give a fuck how many chart-topping singles he’s got—he crossed a line.

You don’t threaten what’s mine.

You don’t look at her, breathe in her direction, or so much as hum a song with her name on your tongue without consequences.

The need to see her— to lay eyes on her, hold her, reassure myself she’s still safe —is burning like a goddamn wildfire under my skin.

Because she’s not just some woman in my bed.

She’s the only thing in this world that makes me feel human.

She’s the only one who ever made me think forever might be real.

And I’ll burn the whole fucking world to ash before I let anyone take her from me.

Onyx stops the car by the front door.

“Boss, want an update from Felix?” he asks, mentioning the gate guard.

I shake my head.

“No one comes up until I call for them.”

“Yes, Boss.”

And that’s all I manage before I’m taking the stairs two at a time.

Yes, I’m in a rush.

Because she’s waiting for me.

The second I step through the door, there she is— standing barefoot in the entryway of our home, wearing something soft and flowy.

It’s some kind of summer dress I think, but what the fuck do I know about fashion?

It’s pretty. The palest shade of yellow I ever saw, and with her coloring, it’s perfect.

She looks— fuck —she looks like a goddess with sunlight from the tall windows catching in her dark hair like a halo.

Her blue eyes glitter in that same light, like precious gems.

And when she looks at me, her lips from where she worried them with her teeth? My heart pounds so hard I wonder if it’s going to bust right outside my chest.

She looks too damn perfect.

Too fucking breakable for this cruel world.

I want to protect her. I will. It’s my goddamn vow to her.

But it’s the expression in her eyes that do me in.

Big, blue, stormy.

Worried.

Like she don’t know what to expect from me. Like she’s trying to gauge my reaction.

Does she think I’ll blame her? That I’ll think this is her fault?

I can see her anxiety, and it cuts me.

Still, she tries to hide it.

Stands tall like a good little heiress, poised and calm.

But I can read her now.

I know her.

Maybe better than she knows herself. And I don’t say a word.

I can’t.

Not when every muscle in my body is vibrating with the need to touch her.

To claim her.

To feel that she’s real, that she’s here, that she’s mine.

So I cross the distance between us in three strides.

No greeting.

No pleasantries.

No lies or excuses.

Just a growl low in my throat as I grab her face and crush my mouth to hers like it’s the only thing keeping me alive.

She gasps into the kiss, and I take that too.

Mine. Every inch of her.

Tongue sweeping into her mouth, hands tangling in her hair, dragging her against me like I’ll die if I don’t.

Because maybe I fucking will.

Because if that snake masquerading as a tiger ever gets too close, if that masked stalker ever comes for her— if she’s hurt, if they try to take her from me —I don’t know what I’d become. What I’d do.

Not true. I know damn well what I’d become, but I don’t even want to entertain the thought.

Because if that day ever comes? Everything will burn.

Lucy makes this sound, this soft, choked moan, and it undoes me.

Pulls the rage right out of my chest and replaces it with heat, need, her.

I lift her—just grab her thighs and pull her up against me, her legs wrapping around my waist on instinct.

Her fingers curl into my hair, and I feel the tension melt from her body as I carry her deeper into our house.

To the table where she must have left the flowers.

Seeing them, sitting there half sticking out of a white florist box, flips a switch inside me.

And I know I’m not quite as in control as I’d like.

Only then do I pull back, just enough to speak.

“Mine,” I whisper against her swollen lips. “You’re mine, Lucy Cruz. And no one— no one —is going to fucking take you from me.”

Her forehead touches mine.

“I only want you, Balor. Only you.”

And she does.

Because the second she opened that door and looked at me like I’m her safe place, like I’m the only thing keeping the wolves at bay, she sealed her fate.

She’s mine.

Forever.

And I’m about to show her what that means.