Page 53 of Dirty Beasts: Chance

I meet his eyes; hyperaware of his size, his masculinity, his hardness. “I’m listening, Chance.”

“Are you with me?”

I frown at him. “I’m right here.”

“No. I mean, are youwithme?”

I swallow, starting to understand his meaning. “Chance, I…” I close my eyes. “I will be beholden to no one, ever again. I have to make my own way.”

“Bullshit. What you mean is you need to know you can stand on your own two feet. Right?”

“Yeah.”

“Not what I asked. I asked are…you…with me?”

“As in, together?”

He nods. “As in together.”

“We just met.”

“And we’ve been through bloodshed, faced our addictions, you reunited with your family. We’ve bared our fuckin’souls, mama.” He holds my face in both hands. “I don’t need to have known you for months or years to know my soul is meant for yours, and yours with mine. I feel that shit. Scary as fuck, sure, but I’m gonna grab on tight and I ain’t lettin’ go, not for anything. There’s nothin’ you can do to get rid of me, to lose me, to scare me off. I’ve seen the worst this world has to offer, and in you, Annika, I see the best it has to offer.”

I shake my head. “You’re crazy. You can’t see that. Not in me.”

“Can too. Because I do.”

“Fine, then, what do you see in me?” I ask, throat thick.

“I see a smart, strong woman with the soul of a warrior. I see a woman who’s faced hell head-on and conquered it. You walked through fuckin’ hell, honey. And here you are.”

I nod, sniffing. “Here I am. Broken. No future. Homeless. No friends.”

“You got friends, woman, shit. You got me. You got Rev. You got Kane. You got Myka and Anjalee. The other boys may take a bit longer to warm up to you, but they’ll get there.” He brushes my lips with his thumb—a gesture I feel in my soul every time he does it, for reasons I can’t quite figure out. “You have a future now. And most of all, you have a home.”

“I do?” I ask. “Where?”

He curls his arms around my shoulders and pulls me against his chest, my legs wrapped around his hips. “Here, mama.”

“Dammit,” I whisper, choking on emotion, which is lodging in my throat and trying to come out through my eyes. “I’m sosickof being so emotional. Ihatecrying. I don’t cry.”

“You’re allowed to cry, though.”

I shake my head. “Hate it. Won’t do it.”

“Gotta let it out, honey.”

“No.” I shake my head again.

He sighs, almost annoyed, but lovingly so, amusedly so. “You have a home, Annika. With me. My bed. My arms.”

I shake my head. “That’s nuts.”

“Sure. Doesn’t mean it ain’t true.”

“Love at first sight is bullshit,” I whisper.

“Never said I fell in love with you at first sight.” He lets that sink in a moment. “I said my soul recognized something in yours. Like a piece of a puzzle fitting into place. It’s nuts. It’s scary. And it’s real.”