Forbidden Fate (Crowne Point 3)

“You’ll see. In a week or two when the dust settles, and you haven’t lost everything, and we’re that much closer to having it all. You’ll see, Grayson. I’ll be back.”

“Let me the fuck out.” He pulled at the handcuff. “You call me Atlas, but you stayed for years in hell for no other reason than to care for your uncle, and now what? You’re locking yourself in another hell for this bullshit? I won’t let you do it. You’re not thinking about what you’ll have to do.”

“Yes, I am.” I swiped the tears blurring my eyes, then took a deep breath so my voice was steady. “I am.”

He utterly froze.

Then with his stony glare locked on me, Grayson yanked at the cuff so hard, the headboard groaned. I could see the skin break.

“Stop!”

He did it again.

And again.

His jaw tight, eyes callous.

“Mr. Crowne.” I tried our safe word, voice hoarse, shredded.

He yanked his arm forward, blood streaming down his wrist.

“Mr. Crowne!” I ran to him, begged him, dropping to my knees, grasping his chained hand in mine. My chest ached with the way his blue eyes cracked. I couldn’t help myself…I ran my free hand down his jaw. He turned into it, biting my finger. I nearly lost myself.

Almost missed him grab me with his free hand.

I stepped back at the last minute, and he grasped air.

“Fuck!” he yelled. “Don’t fucking do this, Story. Don’t be his wife. Be mine.”

I opened my mouth, but paused.

I know I should tell him I’m going to be West’s mistress, that I’m doing exactly what Grayson did when he omitted how he planned to save me. But I need him to see we can do this first.

That this plan will save us.

He slammed his arm forward and the headboard cracked. I couldn’t leave him like this, couldn’t leave us like this, with Grayson ripping his skin open. We had to do this together. I took a tentative step closer, then dropped back to my knees.

I pressed my forehead to his.

“I am your wife. In all the ways that matter. Your wife. Yours. And when this is all over, when we don’t have to hide, my name will be Story Crowne. If you want…” I trailed off, looking at my knees, suddenly filled with irrational insecurity, even after everything.

“Snitch,” he rasped. “Look at me.”

I lifted my eyes to his searing blue ones.

He kissed me. His tongue seeking mine, dueling.

“Story Crowne,” he groaned, his tongue still in my mouth, lips wet on mine. “What a perfect fucking name for a perfect little wife.”

The morning grew hot on my back, and I knew our time was coming to an end. The proverbial midnight had struck.

I tried to pull away, but Grayson held my neck in place.

“Grayson, you have to let go.”

His thumb dug. Bruising.

“I can’t let you go, Story. I’ve tried. I fail every time.”