Page 230 of Scarlet Wars
I shrugged, utterly unrepentant. “Pot, meet kettle.”
Caden huffed a quiet laugh, then turned his hand in mine, threading our fingers together again. His thumb swept once across my knuckles, like he was committing the shape of them to memory.
“Nightcrawler,” he said quietly, the humor thinning into something steadier, warmer. “You don’t compete with anyone.”
His gaze locked onto mine. “You never did. And you never will. From the moment you chose to follow me from Switzerland to Crown, I never even touched another woman again.”
I jerked back. “What?”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Maybe I should’ve led with that.”
“Caden,” I said incredulously, “we weren’t even friendly back then. Why the hell would you do that?”
He shrugged, like the answer was almost embarrassingly simple. “Because you trusted me when you had no reason to. You followed me when you could’ve walked away. You chose me then, and in that moment, I decided I’d always choose you too.”
He leaned in, his forehead brushing mine, voice dropping to a whisper meant only for me.
“And if you let me, I will do so for the rest of our fucking lives.”
Then, softer—less declaration, more confession—he added, “So if you want to tell people I’m yours… I’m more than fine with that.”
I closed my lids, the comfort of those words warring with the terror sitting under my ribs. “If the United Chiefs sniff out what’s going on between us…” I shook my head. “We can’t risk it. Not yet.”
Caden didn’t reply, simply grabbed my arm gently but decisively and tugged me backward toward the headboard in one smooth motion, then wrapped me in his arms.
My head found his chest automatically, his warmth seeping into me until the tension in my body finally began to uncoil.
I looked up at him, sounding smaller than I meant it to be. “Do you think the Chiefs were being truthful when they said you are going to die?”
He snorted, but the sound was bitter. “No. I think they’d say anything if it meant pushing you toward breeding James’s child.”
“But why? Why are they so adamant he’s the father?”
Caden stilled. “I don’t know, baby.”
I reached for him, made him look at me. “They’re dead wrong.”
His mouth curved, a dangerous spark flickering alive again. “I know.”
The words should’ve comforted me, but they didn’t entirely.
I drew in a tired breath. “Between figuring out who’s behind the bubble, who ordered the hit on my parents, and—” My voice cracked only slightly but he heard. “And finding a way out of the worst deal I’ve ever made… I sometimes feel like I’m about to snap.”
Caden’s hand caught my chin, angling my face up to his again.
“Emma,” he ground out, “you are not alone in this. I don’t give a fuck about the Chiefs or their threats, and I sure as hell don’t give a fuck about your deal. You’ve got me. Do you hear me? You’vegotme.”
My man’s fierceness gutted me, tore straight through every defense, until the only thing I could feel was him. Something inside me buckled under it, a dam bursting I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.
I smashed my lips to his, desperate and unrestrained, my fingers tangling in his shirt like he was the only thing keeping me from shattering completely.
He growled into the kiss, the sound vibrating against my lips, raw and possessive in a way that made my entire body tremble.
His breath was harsh against my mouth, “Stay with me tonight.”
“It’s Thursday,” I whispered, even as my lips brushed his.
He kissed me again, deeper, rougher, stealing the protest from me before it could take shape. “Stay with me anyway.”
