What Grows Dies Here

And the truth was that I was falling in love with Karson.

****

I turned up at his house when the party was over. I had managed to gently tell the prince that there was another man then introduce him to Catherine, whom he seemed to get along with well enough. He’d taken the news with grace and focused on my friend with vigor. He was in the wife hunting business.

It was my party, which meant the party was over as the sun kissed the horizon.

Karson was awake. I assumed he’d just gotten home considering he was standing out on the porch, fully dressed except for his jacket.

I had managed to keep my wings on during the car ride over here, which was not an easy or comfortable feat, but I was determined. It was part of the look.

And this particular look was crafted with Karson in mind.

The flowing kaftan I was wearing didn’t cling to my body like most of my looks did, it floated easily over my curves, billowing in the wind. The front dipped way down, like almost to my navel, and my tits were secured with some carefully placed tape.

The wings themselves looked like peacock feathers, the same blues and greens as my dress, so long that they trailed on the ground behind me. My hair tumbled in wild waves, gemstones threaded through my chocolate brown locks. I had on very little makeup, my skin glowing and dewy from all the dancing I’d been doing.

My hard work and the uncomfortable car ride was all worth it as he watched me ascend the stairs to the porch, my every move catalogued by him. My cheeks warmed underneath the subtle bronzer on my face from the heat of Karson’s stare. It didn’t make sense, that I could still blush in the presence of this man. He’d seen every inch of me, done things to every inch of me.

“Holy fuck,” he hissed, rubbing his hand over his mouth, his eyes wide as they took me in.

I grinned, extremely satisfied that I was emitting such a reaction.

“No,” he hissed, holding his hand up as I made to step forward, to climb him like a fucking tree, my need overwhelming any kind of satisfaction I felt.

“Stand fuckin’ still,” he ordered.

My step stuttered. Usually, I would fight him on any commands. That was pretty much the basis of our relationship. Sexually, at least. Conflict. A battle for who was in control. A battle he mostly won, but then again, considering how many orgasms I had, I wasn’t exactly a loser in any sense of the word.

Despite my tendency to fight Karson—at the beginning, at least—I obeyed him immediately. Something about his tone, the roughness to it, the way every fucking cell in my body responded to it, gave me pause.

“Need to imprint this image,” he murmured. “Of you, standing here looking like something out of a fantasy. Looking like a fuckin’ angel.”

His eyes seared into me.

I could barely breathe.

It was over a minute before he moved. It was a million fucking lifetimes. He didn’t throw me over his shoulder and take me off to ravish me like his expression said he was going to. No, he stood in front of me, holding on to me with a tight jaw. With every muscle in his body taut.

“You were right,” he said, hands tight on my hips. “I am the villain here. And that means I technically shouldn’t be saying this, giving you this out, trying to be noble, but I’m doing it anyway.”

His eyes never left mine, searing me with an intensity that scared me.

I was coming close to something. We were coming close to something.

“Because I might have a little bit of hero in me,” he murmured, lifting a hand to brush my jaw with his hand. “A tiny fuckin’ amount. So I’m using it to say that you need to think about what you’re doing with me. This is the one chance I’m giving you to walk away.”

My heart stopped. Literally fucking stopped. Of all of the effects I thought this outfit would have tonight, this had never even entered my mind. The mere thought of walking away from Karson had my skin crawling with panic.

“I’m not going to chase you,” he continued, unaware of my impending panic attack. “Not going to fight for you. Because theoretically, you’re better off without a villain in your life. One chance, baby. After this, if you stay here, I know, I fucking know you’re going to own me for life. And I’m not going to let you walk away from me. I’ll fight for you until I don’t have a heartbeat. This is it. You can’t change your mind after this.”

It took me a long time to process everything he’d just said. Because each of the words were weighted. Each of the words sank all the way down to the bottom of me. Because every single letter of the words he spoke were injected with passion. Ferocity.

They did things to me. He did things to me.

I’d had many, many men speak pretty words to me. Try to captivate me with poetry and promises. But nothing, nothing compared to what Karson had just stated.

It wasn’t poetry.