"Michael Thorn," she whispered, her voice broken. "I give up today. I let go. I don't want the protection, and I don't want you. Just let me go back to my life. Let me be."
Michael's jaw set. The thought of her leaving, of her truly giving up, felt like a void opening in his own chest.
"I don't allow it," he growled, his voice thick with a possessive hunger. "You don't get to decide when this ends."
The door of the room didn't just close; it slammed with a finality that seemed to vibrate through the very floorboards. Michael's hand was a tight grip around Evelyn's wrist, his fingers biting into her skin with a possessive grip that left no room for negotiation. Before she could scream, he spun her, slamming her back against the cold bed.
The air rushed out of her lungs as his massive frame crowded her, his scent a dark, intoxicating blend of expensive tobacco, and raw adrenaline overwhelming her senses.
