Tamed (The Condemned #4) - Alison Aimes Page 0,118

one pebbled nipple. “You’ll give me your full attention.”

“Always,” hips lifting, she arched toward his rope, “that feels so good. I love when you play me.”

“And I just plain love you.”

Just looking at her in their home, spread across their bed, made his cock hard and his chest tight, rousing the ferocious tangle of lust, protectiveness, and possession he always felt for her. Especially when he remembered how close he’d come to losing it all.

She was his fucking everything.

Every rock he’d hauled to give her a solid roof and walls, and most significantly, a place to call home, was worth the effort and time. He intended to be her shelter forever.

He’d built her the largest home in the settlement, imbedding glowing danashe stones in the ceiling to make her feel more at home. Even before building their house, he’d made peace with Sharluff long enough to identify the ideal spot for their dwelling, a piece of land situated on an underground well. As a result, he’d turned one large room into a private waterfall shower, a favorite spot of theirs, and the definite envy of the rest of the crew.

He’d traded with the pack so that Nayla could have her own glowing spear and as many soft pelts, pack powders, and pastes as she wanted. He never wanted her to go without again.

Ryker complained about his extravagances often, saying he was giving the rest of them a bad rap. Malin appeared equally disgusted. Lana told the grumpy male he should be taking notes. Tyson just looked amused.

Grif did not give a damn what any of them thought.

What his female wanted, she got.

That didn’t mean, though, that he was any less ruthless when it came to her.

Especially when she was holding out on him.

And, yes, maybe he was a little more tense than usual. The ghost had returned. No explanation. No clue as to why. Just a few scrapes on a rock, a faint wisp of smoke in the air, an extra spear—better than Bain could make—laid at the settlement perimeter. It had Grif on edge. Mostly because he didn’t know if he should be trying to kill the sneaky bastard, or thank him. But since no one could actually find him, it didn’t much matter anyway.

Still, Grif doubted whatever was going on with Nayla had anything to do with that. Fact was, he couldn’t think of anything it could be—and it was making him crazy.

“Rule number three, I’m going to ask you a question,” he dragged the rough edge of the rope up the inside of her arm, down the other side, around the curve of her breast, over the slopes of her ribs, to eventually skim back and forth at the rise of her mons, “and I want an answer.”

“Grif.” His name was a breathless demand and a protest. Her gaze half lidded as she writhed in her restraints.

But he already knew she could handle him—and anything that came her way.

His wild thing might look fragile, but she’d proven her strength time and again. She’d met face-to-face with the missing females and apologized for what she’d done. She’d grieved with them over Cam’s death and accepted Melody and Hope’s anger over their mother’s prolonged separation.

She’d returned with him to the settlement to confront a sea of strange Others and a new way of life, knowing she’d always be a little different. She’d embraced new food, new scents, new behaviors and expectations.

Grif had been with her every step of the way, holding her when the guilt threatened to become too much or Talg’s ghost rose up to whisper doubts in her ear.

Mostly, though, he’d just stood by her side and watched in awe as she proved herself to be worlds away from the female who’d once been voiceless and unseen. She knew her worth now and she didn’t let her old wounds keep her from meeting each challenge and thriving.

She’d spent a long time looking for acceptance and approval, but she’d found something else along the way: herself. He felt privileged to have a front row seat.

But since Nayla liked him fierce, monstrous, and a little intense, that’s how he stayed.

“You’ve been holding out on me, beautiful. But that ends now.” He snapped the rope. A quick flick of his wrist. The braided end of the rope danced across her clit.

Her back arched, her arms straining against her bonds as her mouth fell open in a silent O.

“Grif.” This time his name was a plea for more. His woman loved