Page 97 of Bloodstained Wings

I need to brand her, to claim every last part of her, so everyone knows that we belong to each other.

When I sink my nails into her hips, Isabella throws her head back and moans. She wriggles her hips sideways until I grip her harder. “Didn’t I say that I’m the one calling the shots?”

“But I’m so close…”

“Hold it,” I growl into her ear. The blood is still roaring in my ears, but they’re also ringing now, and I know I can’t hold on for much longer. Abruptly, I untie Isabella, and she twists her arms over her head. With a grunt, I keep her bent over the chair and ram into her.

Repeatedly.

And with so much force that I feel like the chair is going to break.

She winds her fingers through my hair and tugs. Dual waves of pain and pleasure ricochet through me.

I pin her arms behind her back. “You’re mine, dove. I am not going to lose you to anyone or anything else. Do you understand?”

“Fuck, Carter. Fuck.”

“Don’t come yet.” I use my free hand to slap her ass again, hard enough to leave a mark. “Don’t fucking come until I tell you to.”

I give a few more quick thrusts and sink my teeth into her neck. I hear her sharp intake of breath, and her entire body shivers and explodes, the force of her orgasm ripping through her. She pants and writhes against me, and soon, my own release follows, and I can only see white. When I come down from my high, Isabella is curled against me and humming contentedly.

I drape an arm around her and whisper into her ear. “I know you miss your dad. If there was anything I could do to bring him back or take the pain away, you know I fucking would.”

Isabella tilts her head back and looks up at me. “I know you would.”

I press a kiss to her forehead and linger.

It isn’t long before she drifts off to sleep and starts making low whimpering noises. Reluctantly, I slip out of bed and bend over to pick up my clothes. After getting dressed, I glance at Isabella’s sleeping form over my shoulders, and something in my chest tightens. In nothing but the sheets and my ring on her finger, she is the most alluring sight I’ve ever seen.

And I want to climb back into bed and forget about reality.

But I have a fucking war to worry about.

And a journalist who needs to be taken care of.

***

Isabella

I sit up, my heart hammering unsteadily against my chest, and feel for Carter in the darkness. When I discover he’s not next to me, I throw myself back onto the mattress and bring a hand to my forehead. Then I run a hand over my face and blow out a breath. My breathing is still labored and uneven when I pick up my phone and see the message from Carter.

Briefly, I consider going over to Anita’s, but I know I’m not ready to face her yet.

I’m not ready to face anyone or anything.

Instead, I just want to stay in our room where I can sit in silence and miss my father. The aching hole in my chest feels vast and endless, especially when I scroll through the pictures on my phone and find the last picture my father and I took together. It was a year after he was admitted to the hospital, and in the picture, he was smiling, his hair parted to the side, and his bright eyes full of humor and hope. I don’t even recognize the me sitting next to him in a wrinkled shirt, with her hair pulled back and dark circles under her eyes.

It’s the last picture I have of the two of us, and it makes tears spring to my eyes.

Because I still have no idea how I got here. Or why it had to happen to my dad, of all people.

He didn’t deserve to die alone in a hospital bed.

Before I know it, I wrap my arms around myself and let the tears fall freely, not knowing what else to do with myself. Through my blurred vision, I trace the picture on my phone and try to imagine something different. Finally, I think of my father in heaven, watching over me, with my mom by his side.

Together, the two of them are happy and at peace.

The thought eases some of the knots in my stomach, and my lungs no longer burn when I sit up straighter. Slowly, I push my hair out of my face and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Naked, I walk into the bathroom and set the phone down on the counter. In the mirror, I avoid looking at myself directly while I wait for the water to heat up. Once steam fills the bathroom, I pull the curtain aside and step in, soft music filling the silence around me.