Chapter 55: Chapter Fifty-four

The silence of the room was heavy, broken only by the soft rhythm of her breathing. She lay there, completely unaware of his presence.

As Hunter stood by the edge, looking down at her sleeping form, a rush of emotions poured through him. He knew, without any doubt, in that very instant, that she was his everything. His home. His beginning and end. His torment and his salvation.

He had always known it. Somewhere deep down, he had always known it—that she wasn’t just some fleeting desire or a woman to pass the time with. No, she had never been that to him. From the very moment his eyes had landed on her, he had known. His soul had branded her. His heart had decided. She was the one thing he could never, ever let go of.

And the first time he touched her… the first time he tasted and felt her, the first time he buried himself inside her, he had known he was done for. There had been no return from that. It was like a drug had been injected into his veins, an addiction that no amount of time or distance could ever cure. Three years had passed, but the memory of her taste, her warmth, her voice they all haunted him like a ghost in the night.

She stirred faintly in her sleep, letting out a small sound, a soft hum, as if disturbed by something in her dream. Her long dark hair fell forward over her face, shielding her features from him. She shifted again, making a disapproving noise, as though the strands across her face were a nuisance in her peaceful slumber.

Slowly, Hunter sat at the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, and she shifted slightly but did not wake. He reached out with his hand, his long fingers brushing gently across her face. Carefully, he pushed the strands of hair away, tucking them behind her ear, clearing the view of her delicate face.

When her features were revealed again, she made another small, satisfied sound, and her body seemed to relax even deeper into the bed.

His gaze softened. He traced the smooth arch of her brows with the pad of his thumb, smoothing them gently, almost reverently. He studied her as though he hadn’t seen her in years—and he hadn’t. His eyes devoured every detail, memorizing her all over again. The faint curve of her lips, the softness of her cheek, the way her lashes rested heavily against her cheek.

A low smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when she let out another soft moan. God, she was delicate. One fragile thing.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against hers. It was a soft kiss and careful at first. His tongue traced her lower and upper lip, licking gently, coaxing her mouth to part. And when it did, when he pushed his tongue inside, she responded unconsciously.

She instinctively started sucking his tongue gently, and a soft, breathy moan escaped her throat. The sound went straight to his chest, igniting fire in his blood.

She sucked harder, unconsciously, as though desperate for the taste of him even in her dreams. She sucked his tongue like a toddler desperate for its mom's breast. Hunter did not push further to kiss her. He let her suck on his tongue. He groaned low in his chest, the sound vibrating against her mouth.

For a brief moment, he wondered if she had kept herself all these years. Had she denied her body the touch of another man? The thought soothed his ego and fueled his desire. But then, like a nail to his heart, another thought crept in.

What if she hadn’t?

What if another man had touched her? What if someone had dared to claim what belonged to him?

His blood boiled at the thought. His jaw tightened. His fingers curled into a fist against the bed. Rage licked through his veins like wildfire. The mere idea of her beneath another man was unbearable. Unthinkable.

If she had let anyone inside her… if anyone had dared… he would hunt that man down, drag him out of whatever hole he lived in, and make him watch as he fucked her in his presence. He would make it painfully and mercilessly clear that she belonged to him. And when he was done, when the man had seen what he could do to his woman, Hunter would tear him apart slowly. First torture him day by day until there was nothing left but regret and agony. And then starve him to death or even strangle life out of the fucker.

Another soft moan slipped past her lips, breaking his violent thoughts. She sucked harder on his tongue, needy, restless in her sleep.

God, he knew she needed something. Her body was screaming for it.

And so was his.

He wanted her desperately. Every cell in his body screamed to claim her, to tear away every piece of clothing she wore, to strip her bare and naked under him. He wanted to press her down, drop all his weight onto her, and slam himself deep inside her. To remind her body what it was to belong to him. To make her cry out his name until her throat was raw.

His chest heaved, his blood pulsed, his length hardened painfully against his trousers. He could almost taste the relief, the euphoria of being inside her again.

But…

He pulled away abruptly, his tongue leaving her mouth. She made a small sound of disapproval, like a child denied a sweet, but soon, she stilled again, sinking deeper into sleep.

Hunter clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles whitened. He breathed sharply through his nose, fighting the roaring urge inside him.

She had so much to explain. So many sins to answer and pay for. She had run away from him. She had hidden from him. She had kept the fact that she was pregnant a secret. She had kept his child away from him for three long years.

That betrayal, that defiance—it sat like a weight on his chest. His anger was sharp and simmering. And oh, so help her God if she had slept with anyone else in the past three years…

He closed his eyes, forcing his breathing to calm. He needed space. He needed to step back before his control snapped, before his rage and desire fused and he pounced on her.

Carefully, he covered her with the blanket, tucking it around her body. His lips brushed her forehead in one last soft but possessive kiss, and then he rose to his feet.

Leaving her room, he closed the door silently behind him.

The living room greeted him with its cozy simplicity. He paused there, his sharp eyes scanning the space. It was small. It was neat. It was warm. A tidy, modest little home.

But he hated it.

He hated that she had chosen this over him. Over the life she had with him. Over the luxury, the protection, the power. She had traded it all for this—this quiet little existence, hidden away like some ghost.

Why?

Why would she prefer this to him? To them?

He stalked into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge with force. His hand wrapped around a can of beer, yanking it out. He popped the tab open, the sharp hiss filling the silence. He took a long gulp, the bitterness of it running down his throat. But the taste did nothing to calm him down. It only fueled his frustration.

Halfway through the can, he slammed it onto the counter with a metallic thud. He left it unfinished, his body restless, unsettled.

He opened the fridge again, this time grabbing a bottle of water. He twisted the cap and drank deeply, the coolness refreshing but doing little to cool the fire inside him.

When the bottle was empty, he set it down and walked slowly back through the hall.

This time, he stopped at the door of the other room. The room where his daughter lay.

Quietly, he slipped inside.

The little girl was still curled up, her small body wrapped in the blanket, her face angelic in sleep. His chest tightened at the sight.

Moving carefully, he lowered himself onto the bed beside her. The mattress dipped, but she didn’t wake. He slid closer, his large frame curling protectively around her small one.

With a tenderness few would ever believe possible of him, he adjusted the blanket so it covered them both. Then he pulled her gently into his arms, his chest pressed against her tiny back.

Her scent hit him—sweet, soft, innocent. The smell of his own blood, his own child. It seeped into him, calming the rage, softening the hard edges of his soul.

For the first time in three years, Hunter’s heart felt something close to peace again.

He closed his eyes, the darkness around him easing as her warmth wrapped around him.

Soon, the pull of exhaustion dragged him under. His body relaxed, his breathing slowed, and he drifted into sleep.