I get a hand between us and slide it down the waistband, finding the slick warmth between her legs. Her back arches, pushing her tits towards my face. When I slip two fingers inside her, Amalia cries out and I feel triumph like I’ve never experienced roar through me. I push in and out of her, listening to her mewls of pleasure and adjusting my angle depending on the sounds she’s making.
My angel, my beautiful angel.
I’ve never cared about making someone happy. It never entered my head as something I’m supposed to do, to care about, but with her I want to do better. She makes me want to be a better man.
Amalia comes, yelling my name and I can’t stop from grinning. It feels fucking amazing to hear it.
She reaches for my jeans and my heart twitches. I stop her, my hand snagging her wrist.
“Not yet.”
She doesn’t push and I’m grateful as fuck she doesn’t. I lift off her and sit next to her, my balls hating me, but I can’t. I’m not ready to take that step with her, as much as I want to.
“Thank you,” she says.
This woman seems to make a habit of thanking me when I least expect it.
“For what?”
“Trusting me. I know that took a lot.”
She has no idea how much that took, but the more time I spend with her, the more I’m realising I want her, and not just because I’m infatuated with her, but because I need her like I need my next breath. She’s becoming an integral part of my life, one I’m not sure I can live without.
My heart stops before it remembers to beat again.
“Yeah,” I mutter.
“Small steps,” she murmurs.
I can’t help but think nothing about this has been small steps, but I’m okay with what’s happened.
“You’re not a bad man, Fury.”
She’s wrong. I’m the worst man, but I don’t want to break the bubble we’re in, so I keep my silence.
After a while, I hear her breaths even out and realise she’s asleep. She suddenly moves, leaning her side against my shoulder. She’s touching me, but the world isn’t imploding. Rage isn’t filling me, disgust isn’t crawling over every inch of my skin. I feel something else, something I can’t quite put my finger on.
Stiffly, I shift so her head is at a better angle and I let my breath rip out of me.
For the first time in a long time, I feel complete.
Chapter Seven
Fury
A noise catches my attention, dragging me out of my thoughts of Amalia. I don’t move an inch, barely breathing as my eyes seek out the window. There’s a darkened figure standing on the other side of the glass.
I keep perfectly still as I watch this cunt jimmy the frame. The cold air hits me immediately, but I still don’t move. Instead, I watch as he climbs through the open window and as soon as his feet touch the carpet, I’m up.
Got you, fucker.
I wish Amalia was safe in her room, but I can’t think about that right now. I have to protect her. I don’t think, my reactions born from instinct. I grab him around the throat and slam him against the wall. He lets out an ‘oof’, which wakes the beast inside me for a split second. I pull my knife from my belt and slam it into his gut over and over. Motherfucker tried to harm my angel. He’s going to die for that.
I don’t stop stabbing. Blood spatters over me, going everywhere.
“Fury! Stop!”
The room floods with light and at the sound of her voice the bloodlust fades from my eyes, the ringing stops in my ears and all I can hear is her. Then her hands are on me, trying to pull me away, trying to save my soul. Does she not realise this is who I am? That the darkness that lives in me can’t be tamed—that I can’t be tamed.
Her fingers burn a path where they latch around my bicep. This woman has a habit of touching me, and while I should hate it, usually would hate it, I don’t know that I do, and that scares the shit out of me. I’ve never let anyone touch me. I can’t stand the dirt it brings, having hands on me, but Amalia brings something else, something different. She brings light. Hope. Desire.
Even so, my words tear out of my throat as I demand, “Move back.” She releases me, and I feel the loss of her touch score through my soul, but I don’t want her too close to this fucker or to my demons, which are too close to the surface to control.
My eyes linger for a moment on her sleep shorts and camisole top that leaves far too much exposed. She sat next to me like that all night? Jesus, fuck. My mouth dries and I want to taste her more than I’ve wanted anything in my life before, but I can’t. She’s not mine, and she’ll never be mine.
I give her burglar my full attention. He’s wearing a black knit beanie, his clothes all black too. He has a small nose, a narrow jaw and eyes that look entirely too small for his face. I don’t recognise the cunt, and even if I could, I can’t see his features through the mess of swelling and blood. He’s also not moving.
Amalia pushes past me and ducks in front of him, two fingers going to his neck. I watch her throat work and I know what she’s going to say before she does. My chest heaves as I watch Amalia’s eyes widen, fear landing in them.
“He’s dead,” she whispers the words like they burn her tongue.
I stare at her, my heart racing, knowing this thing that was building between us is done. There’s nothing I can do to save it. She’s seen the monster come out in me twice now, and
