Fear.

I was afraid the first time my father struck me, as well as the first time he stabbed me. I was frightened when he took a whip to my flesh and when he put a bullet in my thigh. But all of that was because I didn’t know the level of pain to come. It was conceivable, but not confirmed yet.

If Delilah were to be killed, I can’t even comprehend the level of devastation it would bring.

I’m going to fucking kill Gage, no matter the outcome of tonight’s altercation. I’m going to torture him to the fullest extent, crush his empire, and then when I’m certain he’s suffered, I’ll end his life.

Although his suffering won’t be a fraction of the agony he’s dredged up with just the mere thought of Delilah’s life in danger.

Fury, hot and unyielding, courses through every fiber of my being as I watch Eric engage Delilah in conversation. What the fuck is he saying to her? Is he taunting her with the intent to kill her, or is he merely toying with her to fuck with me?

It’s working.

I’ve never been religious or given a thought to a supernatural deity, but in that moment, I pray to every god I can think of to protect Delilah until I can do it myself. Either the universe hears my pathetic attempts at prayer, or fate decides to smile on me for once instead of fucking me over like usual.

Delilah knees Eric in the balls and slams her elbow in his gut, forcing him to let go of her. I hold my breath until my lungs scream as I watch her scurry back inside my room and shut the door behind her.

I release a shaky breath, my entire body fucking trembling in relief at the close call. The tremors wrack my body to the point I lose control of my grip on the wheel, and I nearly go off the road. Again.

This girl is going to wreck me in every way possible.

Dual emotions collide inside me, a fusion of pride in her ferocity and a seething wrath aimed at Eric for thinking he could touch what belongs to me. And Delilah is mine.

I’m going to have to make that clearer.

To my enemies.

To my bride.

To the world.

The duration of the drive back to the university is the cruelest torture, each second away from Delilah adding to this bomb inside me that’s ready to explode.

I constantly flick my gaze to the live feed of her in my room. Eventually, she makes her way to the bed and falls asleep. Even then, the need for violence, this level of intensity doesn’t decrease. Only until I see her with my eyes and touch her with my hands and fuck her with my cock will I finally be able to think properly.

By the time I park the SUV in the garage, the sun is rising above the horizon. The urgency to see Delilah overrides any lethargy that threatens to slow me down. I don’t need sleep.

I need her.

Although, I’m still fucking pissed at my girl. She’s going to learn some things today…

My feelings for Delilah have transcended any pretense of mere possession. She’s etched herself into the very marrow of my bones, imprinted herself on my heart so that it beats for her. It lives for her.

When I finally reach the door, my turmoil reaches its peak. Until I step inside the dark room and my gaze lands on Delilah sleeping peacefully in my bed. After that, the agony dissipates.

I have no idea how long I stand there, simply watching the rise and fall of her chest, my eyes glued to the movement while my brain tries to reassure me she’s alive. The need to touch her only grows until I’m crossing the room to feel the warmth of her skin.

After slowly lowering myself to the edge of the bed, I trace the contours of her face with my gaze, then with my fingers. I follow the curve of her lips, the angles of her cheeks, and the sweep of her jaw. She is perfection in human form.

This woman lies there in the peacefulness of repose, a stark contrast to the chaos roiling inside me. Leaning closer, so close that my breath stirs the hair at her temple, I whisper into the quiet, my words a truth I’ve never wanted to admit.

“A raptor is a fierce and formidable bird of prey, and the crow’s natural enemy. When a crow strays from its flock, that’s when it’s most vulnerable, when it exposes itself to the danger of the raptor’s lethal presence.

“You’ve ruined me, Delilah. In this world of deception and power, where I’ve lived among a murder of crows, you have become the one person capable of breaking through my defenses. You’ve made me vulnerable, isolated me from the safety of the Order and from the founding families. You are my greatest weakness.”

I pause and run my fingers through her hair, watching her eyelids flutter in deep sleep. “You’re also my greatest strength.”

As I sit there with my confession lingering in the atmosphere, I watch Delilah breathe steadily, recalling the first time I met her. And how I commemorated it by getting a tattoo, a testament to the profound impact she had on me.

Above the scar she gave me from the stab wound is a hawk, a bird of prey that represents her. Not only for its strength and intelligence, but also to remind me that I’m weak for her. The scar marks our beginning and also serves as a tree branch for the hawk, a foundation for the very thing that makes me vulnerable. Like that tree, I will shield her and be her safety.

She’s marked me in ways far deeper and more permanent than any tattoo could ever convey.

“Sleep as long as you can. When you wake up, you’re going to want to unleash your claws and fight me, but only one of us will win.”

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter 46DELILAH

Ican feel Xavier.

My subconscious, as well as the rest of me, recognizes his presence. I don’t need a physical touch or sound to know when he’s near. His scent invades my senses, his energy prickling at my awareness.

Even in my dreams, where the darkness is complete and the silence deafening, he’s there. He’s the voice calling to me from the abyss.

“Little raptor...”

His words are a low hum, coaxing me to answer. To respond. I want to, but there’s something off about his energy.

“Open your eyes,” he says, his tone more forceful.

My lips part on a breath, and I obey his command. My eyelids flutter, but all I see is darkness. Until I locate him sitting in a chair across the room.

I don’t move. I can’t. Not when I fully take in the look on his face. A man shouldn’t be this beautiful. Especially since he looks like he wants to kill someone.

And he’s holding a knife.

There’s something almost hypnotic in the motion of his fingers as he tosses the blade from one hand to the other. Back and forth, back and forth, like a pendulum, marking each second with an unspoken threat. Then he throws it up in the air and catches it by the handle. The knife glints menacingly, a silent testament to the danger Xavier embodies. It’s intimidating, reminding me of the world he comes from.

The summons he just finished.

I lie there with adrenaline flowing through me like lava, heating my veins, while his gaze holds me captive. I swallow the nerves gathering in my throat and force myself to speak, if only to break through the tension.

“When did you get back?”

Xavier doesn’t answer. He rakes his gaze over me, his silver eyes bright even in the shadows.

“Did something happen?” I ask, trying again.

He remains silent and continues to look at me. His intensity, as usual, is unnerving.

“Xavier, are you okay?”

“Not even close,” he says, his tone rough.

“What’s wrong?”

“You.”

I scramble into a sitting position and hold the comforter to my chest. Although, nothing can remove the feel of his gaze from my skin. Even from across the room, it’s like a physical touch.

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

Xavier stops tossing the knife, catching it one last time. He shifts in the chair, and I stiffen, thinking he’s going to come toward me. Instead, he places his forearms on his thighs and lets his hands rest in the opening between his legs, the knife hanging from his fingertips. It’s a casual pose, but not with him. He’s a predator ready to attack, his muscles going taut under his clothing.