Page 96 of Run Rabbit Run

She takes it, legs wrapped around my hips, nails digging into my shoulders.

I want the marks.

I want her to leave proof on me the way I've left proof inside her.

I come with a low groan, buried to the hilt, filling her in long hot pulses, and she holds me there, trembling, until the last of it fades.

When I finally pull out I watch my spend leak from her, and I push two fingers back inside to keep it there.

She sighs and relaxes into the mattress.

I lie beside her and pull her against my chest, her head over my heart, her fingertip tracing idle patterns on my skin.

Outside the windows, the dark woods stretch for miles.

The same woods where I first took her.

I run my hand over her belly again, and the child inside shifts, and I press my palm flat and feel the movement settle.

She's carrying my third.

She'll carry more.

I tilt her face up and kiss her, slow and deep, and she opens for me at once.

When I pull back her eyes are soft and hazy.

I brush a strand of honey-brown hair off her cheek.

"I'll keep getting you pregnant," I say.

She doesn't flinch or look away.

She simply nods.

I roll onto my back and pull her half on top of me, her belly resting against my side, one leg draped over mine, warm and pliant and exactly where she belongs.

I stroke her hair.

She makes a small content sound.

The fire pops and settles.

The mountain outside is silent.

She falls asleep with my hand still resting on her throat.

I don't sleep.

I watch her.

I count the slow rise and fall of her breathing, feel the steady beat of her pulse under my palm.

She's mine.

Her heart.

Her mind.

Her body.

The children.

Her future.

All of it.

I close my eyes only when I'm certain she won't wake, and even then my hand stays where it is.

Ownership isn't something I take lightly.

It's something I keep.

Forever.