I constantly flick my gaze to the live feed of her in my room. Eventually, she makes her way to the bed and falls asleep. Even then, the need for violence, this level of intensity doesn’t decrease. Only until I see her with my eyes and touch her with my hands and fuck her with my cock will I finally be able to think properly.
By the time I park the SUV in the garage, the sun is rising above the horizon. The urgency to see Delilah overrides any lethargy that threatens to slow me down. I don’t need sleep.
I need her.
Although, I’m still fucking pissed at my girl. She’s going to learn some things today…
My feelings for Delilah have transcended any pretense of mere possession. She’s etched herself into the very marrow of my bones, imprinted herself on my heart so that it beats for her. It lives for her.
When I finally reach the door, my turmoil reaches its peak. Until I step inside the dark room and my gaze lands on Delilah sleeping peacefully in my bed. After that, the agony dissipates.
I have no idea how long I stand there, simply watching the rise and fall of her chest, my eyes glued to the movement while my brain tries to reassure me she’s alive. The need to touch her only grows until I’m crossing the room to feel the warmth of her skin.
After slowly lowering myself to the edge of the bed, I trace the contours of her face with my gaze, then with my fingers. I follow the curve of her lips, the angles of her cheeks, and the sweep of her jaw. She is perfection in human form.
This woman lies there in the peacefulness of repose, a stark contrast to the chaos roiling inside me. Leaning closer, so close that my breath stirs the hair at her temple, I whisper into the quiet, my words a truth I’ve never wanted to admit.
“A raptor is a fierce and formidable bird of prey, and the crow’s natural enemy. When a crow strays from its flock, that’s when it’s most vulnerable, when it exposes itself to the danger of the raptor’s lethal presence.
“You’ve ruined me, Delilah. In this world of deception and power, where I’ve lived among a murder of crows, you have become the one person capable of breaking through my defenses. You’ve made me vulnerable, isolated me from the safety of the Order and from the founding families. You are my greatest weakness.”
I pause and run my fingers through her hair, watching her eyelids flutter in deep sleep. “You’re also my greatest strength.”
As I sit there with my confession lingering in the atmosphere, I watch Delilah breathe steadily, recalling the first time I met her. And how I commemorated it by getting a tattoo, a testament to the profound impact she had on me.
Above the scar she gave me from the stab wound is a hawk, a bird of prey that represents her. Not only for its strength and intelligence, but also to remind me that I’m weak for her. The scar marks our beginning and also serves as a tree branch for the hawk, a foundation for the very thing that makes me vulnerable. Like that tree, I will shield her and be her safety.
She’s marked me in ways far deeper and more permanent than any tattoo could ever convey.
“Sleep as long as you can. When you wake up, you’re going to want to unleash your claws and fight me, but only one of us will win.”
Chapter 46DELILAH
Ican feel Xavier.
My subconscious, as well as the rest of me, recognizes his presence. I don’t need a physical touch or sound to know when he’s near. His scent invades my senses, his energy prickling at my awareness.
Even in my dreams, where the darkness is complete and the silence deafening, he’s there. He’s the voice calling to me from the abyss.
“Little raptor...”
His words are a low hum, coaxing me to answer. To respond. I want to, but there’s something off about his energy.
“Open your eyes,” he says, his tone more forceful.
My lips part on a breath, and I obey his command. My eyelids flutter, but all I see is darkness. Until I locate him sitting in a chair across the room.
I don’t move. I can’t. Not when I fully take in the look on his face. A man shouldn’t be this beautiful. Especially since he looks like he wants to kill someone.
And he’s holding a knife.
There’s something almost hypnotic in the motion of his fingers as he tosses the blade from one hand to the other. Back and forth, back and forth, like a pendulum, marking each second with an unspoken threat. Then he throws it up in the air and catches it by the handle. The knife glints menacingly, a silent testament to the danger Xavier embodies. It’s intimidating, reminding me of the world he comes from.
The summons he just finished.
I lie there with adrenaline flowing through me like lava, heating my veins, while his gaze holds me captive. I swallow the nerves gathering in my throat and force myself to speak, if only to break through the tension.
“When did you get back?”
Xavier doesn’t answer. He rakes his gaze over me, his silver eyes bright even in the shadows.
“Did something happen?” I ask, trying again.
He remains silent and continues to look at me. His intensity, as usual, is unnerving.
“Xavier, are you okay?”
“Not even close,” he says, his tone rough.
“What’s wrong?”
“You.”
I scramble into a sitting position and hold the comforter to my chest. Although, nothing can remove the feel of his gaze from my skin. Even from across the room, it’s like a physical touch.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
Xavier stops tossing the knife, catching it one last time. He shifts in the chair, and I stiffen, thinking he’s going to come toward me. Instead, he places his forearms on his thighs and lets his hands rest in the opening between his legs, the knife hanging from his fingertips. It’s a casual pose, but not with him. He’s a predator ready to attack, his muscles going taut under his clothing.
He’s wearing his customary black t-shirt, black cargo pants, and boots. I scan his body for signs of injury or illness but find nothing to indicate he’s unwell. It only makes this conversation more bizarre.
“Your behavior is a problem, Delilah.”
I purse my lips. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“You’ve been fraternizing with crows.”
His eyes flicker to the door and then my throat. Or maybe I’m just paranoid. In the dim lighting, I could’ve imagined the way he pointedly looked at my neck like he knows what Eric did to me. If Xavier does know, it’s not because I told him.
“And if I was?” I ask, my irritation rising to the surface.
He rises from the chair like a wraith from the mist. I wait for his reprimand, but he suddenly pivots and throws the knife. It slices through the air and finds its mark in the crest above the fireplace. The blade is buried deep inside the crow’s head, embedded into the wood, the handle quivering from the force of the impact.
The skill and control is impressive, but it’s also a warning, a silent message of what he’s capable of.
I jump at the display of violence, my eyes widening and darting between Xavier and the knife. He turns back around to face me, his expression blank, but his eyes gleam with rage.
“You deliberately went to Benjamin after I told you not to,” he says.
I lift my chin. “He’s family. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Do you know what crows do, little raptor? They lie, steal, and kill.”
“Well, maybe you should convince me that you want me as a bride instead of letting someone else do it.”