Claiming Caroline (Claimed 3)

She is the center of my world, the sun and the stars. I worship her as much now as ever.

She's still my naughty little princess. I'm still her wicked daddy. I'm inside her at every available opportunity, giving her pleasure with my body and taking my own from hers. But we're so much more than that, too. The bond we share is immense, exactly as life changing as I knew it would be. I've become softer, leaving loneliness and bitterness in the past. She's become a force to be reckoned with, blossoming from a mischievous princess into a fierce queen.

Jocelyn, who now works as my agent, is chomping at the bit to get her hands on this book. I have no doubts she'll guard it as fiercely as she has the other seven I've delivered into her hands over the last few years. I trust her implicitly. But I've refused to let her read a word of this one.

Caroline gets to see it before anyone else.

Watching her conquer the world has been my greatest pleasure in life. She is a fearless warrior, fighting for change at every opportunity. Over the years, she's done so much good, helping to bring attention to the changing climate and find ways to transition from fossil fuels to sustainable energy. It took a while, but she even managed to sway her father. His company now invests twice as much in solar and wind powered energy as they do in crude oil.

She is magnificent, and she is mine. I am hers. Her lover. Her daddy. Her King.

"It's about mommy?" Hermione asks, turning inquisitive eyes up at me. She's so curious, so eager to explore the world around her and learn. She soaks up knowledge like a sponge. It's extraordinary how very like Caroline she is in that way. Unlike my princess though, my daughter won't grow up thinking she has to make herself less to make others comfortable. She'll grow up with a mother who teaches her to be strong and a father who adores her exactly as she is.

"It is about mommy, and about how much daddy loves her." I tap Hermione on the nose, smiling at her. "But that's a secret, right?"

"If you say so," she says, her voice full of doubt. "But eberybody knows you love her. You tell her all da time."

I laugh quietly. She's right. I do tell my princess that I love her all the time. I never want her to forget for even a second that she and our kids are the best things that ever happened to me. If I never wrote another word, I would survive. If I lost my family, I'd find a way to follow behind them.

"I love you and your brothers just as much, little bird."

"I know." She smiles at me and then yawns again. "Can I hab a prince like mommy does?"

"Maybe when you're fifty."

She huffs at me.

"No boys until then, Hermione." Just the thought of my baby girl being old enough to date shaves a dozen years off my life. "Boys are gross."

"Unka Asher said I could hab a prince when I'm thirty."

"Uncle Asher isn't going to live to see you at thirty if I kill him," I grumble, narrowing my eyes. Asher and Kennedy have been married for as long as Caroline and I have. Asher is one of my closest friends. He's as fiercely protective of Kennedy as I am of Caroline. But he has babies of his own. He can make the rules for them. My baby girl isn't dating until she's fifty. Even then, she'll be too young.

"Aunt Kenzie will be sad if you kill him, daddy," Hermione says, giggling.

The sound of her laughter eases my irritation with her uncle. A little bit. I probably won't kill him because that would upset my wife and her sisters and the kids. Maybe I'll just run him over with my car. Kennedy might be mad, but she learned to forgive me once. Surely if I leave him alive, she'll forgive me a second time.

It took a while for her to learn to trust me, but once she realized how much I love her sister, she came around. She still comes to me for help every once in a while. But she's written her own story and blazed her own trail…and done an incredible job at it.

Hermione's eyes flutter.

"You're tired, little bird."

"Nu-uh."

I smile, shaking my head. She would stay up peppering me with questions all night if I'd let her. She hates to miss anything. But she has daycare tomorrow with her brothers and it's already after eleven. "Go to sleep, baby girl. The world will still be waiting for you tomorrow."

She pouts at me but doesn't argue. Instead, she grabs my hand and places it on her head, silently demanding that I play with her hair like Caroline does when our daughter doesn't want to sleep. My princess is an incredible mom with a limitless well of energy and patience. She loves our babies fiercely…and spoils them as much as I do. Hermione might be a daddy's girl, but our boys are all about their mommy.

I run my fingers through Hermione's hair, combing gently through the tangles.

"Tell me a story," she demands.

"Which story, little bird?"

"Da one about how da beast met my mommy."

I smile, my heart pulsing again. She never wants to hear any story but that one. So I tell her about the night I went to a ball and met a princess who changed my life and changed me. I tell her about a wounded beast learning to love again, learning to live again. I tell her the truth. At least the parts she's allowed to hear. The rest…well, those parts are just for me and my princess.