Page 49

emma

. . .

My body feels heavy and my thoughts feel like they're coming at me in slow motion. I try to blink my eyes open, only to feel them roll into the back of my head. This isn’t a hangover; I didn’t drink anything last night.

There’s no pain or a headache, just a sluggish feeling that I could sleep for the entire day.

Last night’s game was a tough one, but I wasn’t so exhausted that I’m feeling this way.

My legs stretch out and I realize that the mattress feels cool to the touch.

Where’s Hawke? My backside aches from the movements and I adjust my body slightly.

I swipe my arms out next, searching for him, my fingers flex against the sheets.

My finger throbs and I wince against the dull pain.

Needing to get up, I climb out of bed, blinking my vision to clear it.

My stomach rolls slightly, causing me to sit back down, and breathe deeply in and out.

“You’re awake.” Hawke’s warm, gravelly voice is near, and when I open my eyes again, I find him kneeling in front of me. His hands run down my shoulders and he helps me to stand.

“Let’s get you some breakfast. You’ll feel better when you have something in your stomach.”

I frown at his words, but my muddled brain still can’t piece together what is happening or why I feel this way.

I let him lead me out of his room and down the hallway to the kitchen area.

As we walk, my head starts to clear and I’m aware of how sore I feel.

Hawke has the curtains open and despite the cold January temps, there is sunshine today.

The rays glisten off the snow and the ice that covers the pine trees.

It looks beautiful and it also looks much later in the morning than I usually sleep.

“What time is it?” My head swivels to Hawke whose lips turn up in a smile.

“Half past nine.”

My eyes widen. “I was supposed to?—”

“I already let Riley and Sam know you wouldn’t be at the workout session or your girls’ brunch today,” he interrupts.

I want to laugh because I can just imagine how put out my two best friends would be. “Oh and how did you manage to convince them to let me skip? We’ve been doing this on Sundays since we were in high school.”

His smile is a little too cocky, almost arrogant. “I told them I had a better surprise for you today, and that we’re celebrating.”

My brow furrows. “Celebrating?”

Hawke turns me to the kitchen island table and waves his hand across it. “Celebrating.”

There is so much food. Fruit, yogurt, French toast, eggs, bacon, sausages, the little pastries from the coffee shop that I love, biscuits and gravy, orange juice and champagne. My stomach growls and I place my hand over it. Hawke laughs from next to me.

“Let's feed you, sugar.”

I follow to my seat and sit down at the table, only to jump up a second later. “Ow! What the hell, my butt cheek is burning.” I twist and lift my shirt, trying to see if it’s me or something I sat on. Hawke disappears in the freezer and brings out a bag of peas.

I watch him with wide eyes as he sets the bag in my chair. “Here, sit on those. It will help.”

Blinking, I stare at the man, my mind recounting his words. “Help what?”

Hawke glances at me, and while there is zero remorse in his gaze, I do see a small flicker of regret.

The pain I’d been ignoring and casting aside rears up.

For the first time my gaze drops to my left hand, on my finger that is pulsing with pain and heat.

My ring finger. Where a wedding band could someday be, is Hawke’s name in black, delicate, swirling ink.

“Did you tattoo my finger?”

My eyes shoot to his and Hawke is watching me expectantly, waiting, and then it dawns on me.

I bolt from the kitchen to the bathroom, shoving my panties down and lifting the t-shirt of Hawke’s that I don’t remember putting on last night.

All I remember is making love, us cleaning up in the bathroom and then he held me in bed.

I twist my body in the mirror looking for more proof of his depravity.

Hawke is watching me, leaning against the doorframe, looking unbothered and almost smug.

“Seriously, Hawke. What the hell did you do?”

He moves from the doorway, stalking toward me, his hand comes up to grip my jaw. “We made a bet. I won, you lost, sugar.”

My mind whirls and I think back over the past three months, trying to place what he means. Three months. I glance around at my things on his bathroom counter, the bedroom I just woke up in, the same one I’ve been sleeping in for the past three months. That bet.

I whirl out of his grip, my hands pushing against his chest. “You don’t get to call me, sugar, after you tattooed me without my permission.”

The bathroom door slams shut and I lock it.

Hawke is there, pounding on it, threatening to smash it down.

I don’t have much time and I need to see.

I need to know, because knowing Hawke, the one on my finger isn’t the only one I was gifted.

I turn to the left and I see it. High, in the middle of my right butt cheek is another tattoo.

The door flies open, and my boyfriend stands there, chest heaving and eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to lock me out, Emmarys.”

“You’re out of your mind, Hawke, if you think that this is okay. How did you do it? I wouldn’t have slept through either of these,” I yell at him, my voice sounding almost hysterical.

My eyes run over the tattoo again, taking in the King’s crown with violets weaved between the jagged points.

It's beautiful really, and if I had the choice to choose it, I might feel differently. But knowing it was put there while I didn’t know it was happening, and that fact that it matches Hawke’s almost feels like a brand.

A burst of heat flows through me and my heart clenches.

I close my eyes, unable to look at myself in the mirror, fearing what I know I may see.

There is no way I can actually like this except that I do.

As the anger fades, that dark possessive streak for my boyfriend surfaces.

It likes carrying his mark. It likes knowing that others can see I belong to him. He tattooed my wedding ring finger.

Hawke crowds me against the counter, his big body right in front of me. His hands land on my hips and he sets me on the counter. I hiss out a sharp breath as my flesh connects with the cold tiles, but it also feels good on the pain. Hawke’s hands cradle my face, pulling my attention to him.

“You made the bet, sweetheart, and I came to collect. I have pain meds waiting for you next to your plate so you can take them with food. After we’re done, I’ll clean them up for you, and provide the care they need,” he explains as if talking to someone looking for directions when they’re lost.

“It's not just about losing the bet, Hawke. You branded me, and this...” I wave my finger in front of his face. “This is forever. My ring finger is permanently marked.”

His icy green eyes darken and he shoves my legs apart, moving to stand between them, pressing my back into the mirror, and forcing me to look up at him.

“Fucking right, it’s permanently marked, sugar.

By me. You. Are. Mine. Not just my ring that will go there someday, but my name will always be there for everyone to see, which is way more forever than a diamond band. ”

I shake my head, fighting to hold onto my anger, hating my heart for indulging in this, loving the way he claimed me. “Aren’t couple tattoos a bad omen or something? What if you just doomed our relationship this way.”

Hawke smirks. “I’ve been marked with you, us, our relationship for years, Em. And now I have you, and we’re together, with a future ahead of us that we’re just starting, there is nothing that can tear us apart.”

He leans in, his nose brushing against my neck, his lips moving along my jaw and under my chin. Our eyes meet before he presses his lips to mine, kissing me hungrily. I pull back, and he groans from the loss of his lips on mine.

“How did you do it, Hawke?”

He’s breathing hard and presses his forehead to mine. “It was just a sleeping pill. The correct dosage for you. You weren’t drugged. It was just enough to keep you sleeping so you didn’t feel the pain.”

I scoff and try to push him back to give me room again. “I wasn’t drugged so that makes it okay to you? You’ve upgraded from being a stalker to a damn psycho.”

He has the audacity to laugh, and then he’s in my space again, his right hand on my neck.

He squeezes and it's enough to get my attention, my hands gripping his arm. “You have no idea, Em. But since you like my possessive side and since I know as well as you do that there’s a little part of you that is enjoying this, you should know I wouldn’t do this half-assed. Our obsession matches, sweets.”

Hawke holds up his left hand, and on his ring finger is the same scroll with my name on it.

My stomach tightens and tingles spread all over my body.

He grins at the expression on my face before pulling away, his hand dropping, and he lifts his shirt off over his head.

Right across the middle of his chest is my name again in dark, bold, letters that look all at once beautiful and masculine.

“Hawke.”

“I’m yours, Emmarys. Every twisted, possessive, stalkerish part of me. I love you. I will love you in this life and the next, forever. You gave me everything when you gave me a second chance. I won’t ever let you go again,” he vows, and my resolve melts for him.

I want to kiss him. I want him to take me back to bed. Instead, my stomach growls loudly and we both glance down. “What are we celebrating again?”

“That you are officially moving in,” he answers right away, lifting me off the counter and carrying me bridal style back to the kitchen. “Let me feed you, woman. Then we can make more plans for our future.”

I shouldn’t like the sound of that, but I do. Glancing down at my ring finger, I realize that is growing on me too.

“I love you, Hawke,” I tell him.

“I’ve always loved you, Emmarys. Always.”