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When I woke the next morning, I was alone in bed.
I sat up, disappointed that Harry hadn't woken me. I slipped out of bed when he came into the bedroom from the hallway, already dressed in black, with a chest holster that held two knives and two guns, and who knew how many more holsters on the rest of his body with more weapons.
"Are you leaving already?"
He grimaced. "The Bratva got one of ours. They left him in tiny pieces around one of our clubs."
"Somebody I know?" I asked with dread. Harry shook his head. "Will the police get involved?"
"Not if I can help it." Harry cupped my face. "I'll try to be home early, okay?"
I nodded. He lowered his head, watching me the entire time to see if I would pull back. His lips brushed over mine. I opened my mouth for him and sank into the kiss, but it was over too quick.
I watched his back as he left. Then I picked up the phone and called Gianna.
"I thought you'd never call." was the first thing out of her mouth.
I smiled. "I haven't even showered yet, and it's only eight in Chicago. You can't have been awake for long."
"You didn't call yesterday. I was sick with worry. I couldn't sleep because of you. I hate that we are so far apart and I can't see for myself if you're okay. Are you okay?"
"Yes, I am."
Then I told her about my conversation with Harry and how we'd spent yesterday together.
"How noble of him to agree to not cheat on you again and actually try to make the marriage work. Give that man flowers."
"He isn't a good man, Gianna. There are no good men in our world. But I think he really wants to try. And I want it too."
"Why don't you ask him if I can come visit for a few days? I don't have school for another two weeks and I'm bored out of my mind without you. We could spend a couple of days at the beach in the Hamptons and go shopping in Manhattan."
"What about Father? Did you ask him?"
"He told me to ask you and Harry."
"I will ask him. I don't think he'll mind. It's not like he's home very often at the moment. Most days I'm alone with Romero."
"Why don't you ask Harry if you can go to college? You've got perfect grades. You would have no trouble getting into Columbia."
"What for? I won't ever be allowed to work. It's too dangerous."
"You could help Harry with his clubs. You could be his secretary or whatever. You'll go crazy if you stay in that penthouse all the time."
"Don't worry, I'll be fine." I said, even though I really wasn't sure. Gianna had a point. "I will talk to Harry about your visit. Now, I really need to take a shower and grab something to eat."
"Call me as soon as possible. I need to book a flight."
I smiled. "I will. Stay out of trouble."
"You too."
I hung up. Then I got ready and dressed in a breezy summer dress.
It was sunny outside and I wanted to walk through Central Park. When I stepped into the living room, Romero was sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee in front of him.
"Was Harry very angry with you?" I asked as I walked past him toward the huge open kitchen.
Homemade carrot cake set on the counter and I could hear Marianna humming somewhere. She was probably cleaning.
Romero got up, took his cup and leaned against the kitchen island. "He wasn't happy. You could have been killed. I'm supposed to protect you."
"What's Harry doing today?"
Romero shook his head.
"What is he doing? I want to know details. Why is he taking so many guns with him?"
"He, Alex, and a few others are going to find the guys who killed our man and then they're going to get revenge."
"That sounds dangerous." I said quietly.
A hint of worry filled me. Revenge was never the end of things. The Bratva would take revenge in turn for Harry's revenge. It was a never ending story.
"Harry and Alex have been doing this for a long time, they are the best, and so are the men with them."
"And instead of being in on the fun, you have to babysit me."
Romero gave a shrug, then he smiled. "It's an honor."
I rolled my eyes. "I'd like to go jogging in Central park."
"Will you try to run away again?"
"Why would I? There's nowhere I can run. And I doubt you'll let me escape again. You look fit enough."
Romero straightened. "Okay." I could tell that he was still suspicious of my motives.
I put on my shorts, a tank top, and my running shoes, then went back out. Romero had changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt. He kept a stash of clothes in one of our guest bedrooms, but he lived in an apartment about ten minutes from here.
"Where have you hidden your guns?"
"That's my secret." He said with a rare grin, then he caught himself and put on his professional face.
Romero was fit and could easily keep up with me as we jogged through the many pathways in Central Park for the next hour.
It felt wonderful to actually run outside for once instead of always being limited to the treadmill. I felt free and almost as if I belonged among all the people doing ordinary things like walking their dogs or playing baseball.
Maybe Harry would run with me one day when the Russians weren't giving him so much trouble anymore. But the question is when would that ever be?
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Later that day, I sat on the roof terrace, watching the sunset, my legs pulled up against my body. Romero was checking his phone.
"Harry will have more time for you soon." He told me.
I looked at him. Had I appeared lonely to him?
"Did he tell you when he'd be home today?" I asked.
"He hasn't written yet." He said slowly.
"That's a bad sign, right?"
Romero didn't say anything, only frowned down at his phone.
I went inside when it became too cold outside, put on my nightgown and curled up on the couch, turning on the TV. I couldn't help but get more worried as the clock edged closer to midnight, but eventually I drifted off.
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I woke when I was lifted off the couch. My eyes fluttered open and I peered up into Harry's face. It was too dark to make out much. Romero must have extinguished the lights at some point.
"Harry?" I murmured.
He didn't say anything. I put a hand against his chest. His shirt was slick with something—Water? Blood?
His breathing was even, steps measured. His heartbeat was calm under my palm. But I couldn't read his mood. It was strange.
He carried me up the stairs as if I weighed nothing. We reached our bedroom and he put me down on the bed. I could only see his tall shape looming above me. Why wasn't he saying anything?
I stretched and fumbled for the main switch beside the bed. I brushed it with my fingertips and the lights came on, and I gasped.
Harry's shirt was covered in blood. Soaked in it. There was a small cut at Harry's throat and if the rips in his shirt were any indication he probably had more wounds. Then my eyes found his face and I became very still, like a fawn trying to blend in as not to attract the attention of the wolf.
I'd thought I'd seen Harry's darkness on a few occasions, had thought I'd glimpsed the monster beneath the civil mask before. Now I realized I hadn't. His expression was void of emotion but his eyes made the hairs on my neck rise.
I licked my lips. "Harry?"
He started unbuttoning his shirt, revealing small cuts and a longer wound below his ribs. His skin was covered with blood. But it couldn't all have come from him, especially not all the blood on the shirt. It worried me that he still hadn't spoke. He shed his shirt and dropped it on the ground. Then he unbuckled his belt.
"Harry." I said. "You are scaring me. What happened?"
He pushed his pants down and stepped out of them. He was barefoot and now only in his briefs as he knelt on the bed and brought one knee between my legs. I began to regret wearing only a nightgown. He slowly moved up until his head hovered over me. Terror gripped my throat, turned my heartbeat into a flutter.
His eyes made me want to bolt, to cry and scream, to escape. Instead, I lifted my hand and cupped his cheek. His expression shifted, a chink in the monstrous mask.
He leaned into the touch, then he lowered his face and pressed it into the crook of my neck. He breathed in deeply and didn't move for a long time. I tried not to panic. My hand was shaking against his cheek.
"Harry?" I said softly.
He raised his head again. I could see a flicker of the Harry I knew. He slid off the bed and headed for the bathroom. When he was out of sight, I let out a deep breath. Whatever had gone down today must have been horrible.
I sat up as I listened to the running shower. In what kind of mood would Harry return into the bedroom? The monster in check, or almost unleashed like a moment ago?
The water stopped and I quickly lay down on my side of the bed and pulled the covers up.
A few minutes later, the door opened and Harry walked in with a towel around his waist. It was white, but a few droplets of blood had dripped from his wound and stained the fabric. He didn't walk toward the cupboard to grab boxer shorts as he usually did, instead he came directly toward the bed.
When he reached for the towel, I averted my eyes and turned on my other side, my back toward him. He lifted the blanket and the mattress shifted under his weight. He pressed up against me, his hand curled over my hip in an almost bruising grip before he turned me toward him.
My mind screamed at me to stop him. He was completely naked and in a scary mood. He'd spent the day picking up the pieces of one of his men and the remaining day killing his enemies. He grabbed the hem of my nightgown and began pulling it up. I put my hand over his.
"Harry." I whispered.
His eyes met mine. I relaxed slightly. There was still darkness in them but it was more contained.
"I want to feel your body against mine tonight. I want to hold you."
I could almost hear the unspoken words. I need you.
I swallowed. "Only hold me?"
"I swear." His voice was gruff as if he'd spent hours screaming orders.
I lowered my hand and let him pull my nightgown off. He released a low breath as he gazed at my naked breasts. I had to fight the urge to cover myself. His fingertips brushed the hem of my panties but when I tensed they retreated and he rolled onto his back and lifted me on top of him. I straddled his stomach, my knees on either side of him, my breasts pressed against his chest.
I tried to keep my weight off him because I didn't want to hurt his wounds, but he wrapped one arm around my back and pressed me tightly against him. His other hand touched my butt, making me jump. He began moving his thumb across my lower back and butt, and I relaxed slowly. The entire time his eyes were boring into mine and with every passing moment, a tiny bit more of the darkness dissipated.
"Doesn't your cut need stitches?"
He bent forward and kissed me sweetly. "Tomorrow."
He kept stroking my butt and kissing me slowly as if he wanted to savor every moment. I was completely overwhelmed but it felt good. I loved that he was suddenly so gentle. If he was like that when we were intimate for the first time, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
My eyelids felt heavy but I couldn't look away from Harry. I touched his throat, an inch below the cut. I wasn't sure why but I leaned forward and pressed a feather-light kiss against the wound. It was small and wouldn't need stitches, not like the one below his ribs.
When I drew back, Harry looked almost surprised. His hand on my butt moved lower, cupping my ass cheek. His little finger was almost touching me there. He squeezed my cheek and for a moment his finger brushed my opening through the fabric.
I sucked in a breath, shocked by the jolt the small touch had sent through me. Heat gathered between my legs and I could feel myself getting wet.
I squirmed in embarrassment, not wanting Harry to realize that a bare brush and his stroking of my butt had caused such a reaction. Maybe I wasn't experienced, but I'd been imagining certain things, had caressed myself on many nights.
It wasn't that I was frigid. Harry's body turned me on. Maybe I wanted love, but my body wanted something else. The feeling of Harry's strong chest and muscled stomach under me, his gentle kisses, his soft touch, they made me want something more, even if my mind told me it was a bad idea.
Harry's eyes narrowed a fraction as he studied me, like I was a difficult equation he wanted to figure out. Then he lightly graced the crotch of my panties with his fingertips and I knew he could feel it. I could feel that the thin fabric was soaked.
My cheeks flamed in mortification and I lowered my eyes, but I couldn't bring myself to slide off him or even close my legs. His fingertips against my core felt good even if they'd stopped moving.
"Look at me, Aria." Harry said in a rough voice.
I peered into his eyes even as my face felt close to exploding from shame. "Are you embarrassed because of this?"
He traced a finger over my wet panties. My butt arched and I exhaled harshly.
I couldn't say anything. My lips were parted as small sounds that weren't quite moans slid out. Harry's moved his finger up and down, gently, teasingly, and small shivers of pleasures slithered through my body.
I'd always thought that passion and orgasms came as a forceful wave leaving nothing in their wake, something almost intimidating but this was like a slow trickling; a deliciously sweet tension mounting to something bigger.
I quivered on top of Harry, my fingers clinging to his shoulders. He never sped up his stroking, but the pleasure rose with every brush. His eyes bore into mine as he slid two fingers over my opening then between my folds and pressed down on my clit. How could this feel so intense? He wasn't even touching my skin.
I gasped and trembled as sparks of pleasure shot through my body. I buried my face against Harry's neck as I clung to him. His finger rubbed my clit through my panties, slower and slower until he simply rested his hand possessively over my folds.
Harry pressed his face into my hair. "God, you're so wet, Aria. If you knew how much I want you right now, you'd run away." He laughed darkly. "I can almost feel your wetness on my cock."
I didn't say anything, only tried to calm my breathing. Harry's heartbeat was strong and fast beneath my cheek. He shifted and his length briefly brushed my inner thigh. He felt hot and hard.
"Do you want me to touch you?" I said in the quietest whisper.
I was half-scared and half-excited about seeing him naked and actually touching him. I wanted to lay my claim on him, wanted to make him forget about the women of his past. Harry's hand on my back tightened and he drew in a deep breath, his chest expanding under me.
"No." He growled, and I lifted my head in confusion and a little hurt. Some of it must have showed, because Harry smiled grimly. "I'm not quite myself yet, Aria. There's too much darkness on the surface, too much blood and anger. Today was bad." He shook his head. "When I came home today and found you lying on the sofa, so innocent and vulnerable and mine." Something flickered in his eyes, some of the darkness he'd mentioned. "I'm glad you don't know the thoughts that ran through my head then. You are my wife and I swore to protect you, if necessary even from myself."
"You think you'd lose control?" I whispered.
"I know it."
"Maybe you underestimate yourself." I trailed my fingers over his shoulders.
I wasn't sure if I was trying to convince him or myself. He had scared me, there was no denying it. But he had snapped out of it.
"Maybe you trust me too much." He ran a finger over my spine, sending a new wave of tingling toward my core. "When I lay you down on the bed like a sacrificial lamb, you should have run."
"Someone once told me not to run from monsters because they give chase."
The ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Next time, you run. Or if you can't, you ram your knee into my balls."
He wasn't joking. "If I'd done that today, you would have lost control. The only reason why you didn't was because I treated you like my husband, not a monster."
He traced my lips with his thumb, then brushed my cheek. "You are far too beautiful and innocent to be married to someone like me, but I'm too much of a selfish bastard to ever let you go. You are mine. Forever."
"I know." I said, then lowered my cheek back to his chest.
Harry extinguished the lights and I fell asleep listening to his heartbeat. I knew a normal person would have run from Harry, but I'd grown up among predators. Decent, normal guys with jobs that didn't involve breaking laws were a foreign species to me. And deep down a primal part of me couldn't imagine being with someone who wasn't an alpha like Harry.
It thrilled me to know that a man like him could be gentle with me. It thrilled me that he was mine and I was his.
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