Page 47

Chapter 46

Rule

She falls asleep twenty minutes into the second movie. Somewhere between the third explosion and the antihero’s last betrayal, she gave in.

Matteo had glanced over when her head started to tip toward my shoulder. I gave him a look and he stretched out on the couch and pretended not to keep checking on her every few minutes.

But I didn’t pretend.

I watched every breath.

Because I wanted this.

This moment.

This surrender she didn’t mean to give.

Her lashes didn’t flutter. Her hands twitched once, a little aftershock of exhaustion maybe. The tank top she wore rode up just enough to show the marks low on her ribs. Our marks. Her body was still wrecked from the fight-turned-fuck we dragged her through. And she fell asleep anyway.

With us.

She never relaxes like this. Not fully.

The movie’s still playing in the background—gunshots, sirens, shattered glass echoing across the sound system. But her breathing stays soft. Steady. She’s deep under now.

She fought so hard not to relax tonight.

But she still fell asleep between us.

Because part of her—some buried, feral part— trusts us now.

She’d never admit it. She’d claw us to ribbons before she’d say it out loud. But it’s there. In the way she let her guard down long enough to sleep without a blade tucked under her pillow.

Now she’s soft. Quiet. Open.

And I can’t stop looking.

The credits roll.

Matteo stretches, mutters something about going to check the perimeter. He gives me a pointed look, but doesn’t say anything.

He knows.

We don’t need to speak it out loud anymore.

When the door clicks shut behind him, I move.

Careful. Slow.

She doesn’t stir when I lift her. Her body curls instinctively into mine, head tucked under my chin, breath warm against my throat. She smells like vanilla and something uniquely her.

She’s heavier than she looks—muscle and tension packed into every inch of her frame. But in my arms, she feels small. Breakable.

I nudge the door to her bedroom open with my foot and bring her inside. The bed’s too big for just her. We made sure of that. Black velvet headboard. Burgundy silk sheets. Fit for a queen. Or a conqueror.

I lay her down carefully, adjusting the pillow beneath her head. Her tank rides up again as she settles. I smooth it down without thought. My thumb catches the edge of a bruise peeking out above her waistband.

Fucking beautiful.

She looks perfect like this.

I stand over her for too long, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. Looking down at the girl who has carved her name into my every waking thought.

The girl I would tear my father’s kingdom down for.

The girl I plan to rebuild the world around.

Seanna fucking Darling.

I sit on the edge of the bed, hand trailing up the outside of her thigh—light, slow. I don’t want to wake her. Not yet. Not for this.

I shift over her slowly, lowering myself until my body is half over hers—just enough to cage her. Feel her.

One hand brushes her hip, then the band of her pants.

Then lower.

She’s warm there, soft.

I press against her through the fabric, slow and testing. Before I slip my hand into her pants, until I find the heat I knew would be waiting. She’s wet already. Maybe from a dream. Maybe from the lingering touch of everything we did to her today.

I stroke her slowly, watching her face. Her brows twitch. A soft sound escapes her throat.

Still, she doesn’t wake.

I slide my hand out and drag the pants down her hips, inch by inch, until she’s bare beneath me.

Her legs shift slightly, thighs parting just enough to make room for me.

My cock’s already hard. Has been for the past twenty minutes, if I’m honest. Watching her sleep does something feral to me. Ancient. Territorial.

I nudge her legs further apart gently. Sliding between them, and fuck—I’ve been good. Patient. Careful.

But I’m not built for restraint.

Not with her.

Not when she’s lying here like this—her scent in my lungs, her pulse steady and soft, her mouth just barely parted.

My hands settle on either side of her. My hips rock forward.

The first push is everything. Hot. Tight. So fucking right I nearly lose my mind.

I sink into her slowly, inch by inch, until I’m buried inside her. Balls-deep. Caged by the heat of her and the weight of every fantasy I’ve ever tried to choke down.

And she doesn’t wake, not all the way.

Just breathes different. A soft hitch. Her brows pull slightly. Her mouth parts.

She sighs, and God help me, it sounds like my name.

I stay still inside her, savoring the stretch, the heat, the instinctive way her body clenches around me even in sleep.

Like she knows.

She’s going to carry my child.

It’s instinct and expectation.

It’s blood-deep and bone-engraved—something my father drilled into me before I even knew what sex was.

Legacy. Bloodline. Heir.

But it won’t be his name the child takes. No.

It’ll be hers.

Darling .

God, yes.

That name—sharp as glass and twice as dangerous—already sounds better in my mouth than Reyes ever did.

Let them carry her name. I’ll fucking change mine, if I have to. Legally. Publicly. I’ll burn the Reyes line to ash if it means building something with hers.

I move inside her slow and deep. Grinding at that perfect angle that makes her gasp even in unconsciousness.

“Good girl,” I whisper eventually, brushing hair from her cheek. “You know who’s inside you, don’t you.”

Her body answers before she does.

Clenching. Gripping. Pulling me deeper.

“You take me so well, princess,” I murmur, voice rough. “You’re made for this. For me . For us .”

This is different. It’s ritual and reverence.

“I don’t want to just come inside you. I want to stay there. Sink so deep I leave a part of me behind.”

Because Seanna Darling is the only woman I’ve ever wanted to put a child in.

She shifts under me, hips rolling just slightly, her breath catching as my piercing drags over that spot that always makes her gasp when she’s awake.

She still doesn’t know.

Still fucks us like she’s untouchable. Like she’s safe.

Like we haven’t already stacked the odds in our favor.

She’s close. Even now.

Even unconscious. Her body wants it.

My grip tightens. My thrusts deepen.

And that’s when I say it. The thing I never let myself say out loud.

“You’re going to have our baby, little storm. We’ll breed you so deep you’ll still feel us when you close your eyes. You’ll drip with us for days.”

I don’t care if it’s mine or Ruin’s. We’re already in her blood. Her bones. There’s no pulling us out now.

But the thought of it? Her belly growing round with one of us buried deep inside her, the curve of it—that’s enough to make my cock throb.

I fuck her harder now. Not punishing. Just deliberate .

Every thrust a claim.

Every grind a promise.

“I want to watch you grow round with our child. Want to see your belly swell while I fuck you from behind—still dripping with need even when you’re full.”

My hand slides to her stomach, palm resting over the space that could hold it. That could hold us .

“You’ll be perfect,” I breathe. “So fucking perfect. You’d glow.”

Her head turns into the pillow, lips parting in a soft whimper as her body shudders around me. Thighs twitching around me.

She moans. A soft sound. Broken. Raw.

And it’s mine. All of it is mine.

I fuck her slow, steady, deep. No rush. No pounding. Just a relentless, claiming pressure—like every thrust is another line carved into her soul that says mine, mine, mine .

Her body tightens around me.

She gasps and wakes. Eyes fluttering open—blurry, confused. She looks up at me, dazed.

And still, she doesn’t fight. Not really.

Just blinks up at me like she already knows how this ends, like she dreamed it already.

My hand moves to her cheek. I press a kiss to her lips. Soft. Gentle.

“You feel that, princess? That’s what happens when you’re ours. When your body begs to keep every drop.”

Her legs tighten around my hips. Her body gives the answer for her.

And I fuck her like I’m building a future with every thrust.

Like she’s already carrying it.

Like she was meant for it.

She chokes on a gasp, a breathy cry breaking loose from her throat as she clenches tight around me.

It starts slow—then hits . Her orgasm crashes through her in a shuddering wave, her hips jerking as she comes on my cock, clenching hard.

And then I break.

I come inside her with a growl, cock pulsing deep, spilling everything into that perfect, warm body like I’ve been waiting my whole life to do it.

My hand slides to her lower stomach again, palm spread wide, holding her still as I empty myself inside her.

Every drop. Every fucking drop. Right where it belongs.

I stay there for a long moment.

Inside her.

Breathing her.

Worshiping her.