“Baby,” he began. There was nowhere to go with it. He wanted to kill Paolo for hitting her. This hadn’t been an erotic spanking leading to other things. It wasn’t about bringing her pleasure in any form. This had been a punishment. For what? What had she done but show him love? She’d done that. Given him a precious gift, and he’d thrown it back in her face because he was terrified. What the fuck was wrong with him?

He moved her body off of him. She didn’t turn over. She didn’t look at him, but kept her face averted, the long hair effectively hiding her from him. Hiding her expression. Hiding her tears. His stomach knotted more. Brutal. He was disgusted with himself.

“You aren’t fucking leaving me over this, Siena. You’re not leaving me. You’re going to get past this fuckup too.” His voice was harsh. Strangled. Savage, just like the savage beast raging inside him. He made it a dark decree. “You aren’t leaving me. You try running and I’ll hunt you down, bring you back and tie you to my bed until you see reason. Don’t think for one minute I won’t find you.”

He didn’t care if he sounded like the stalker man from hell. She gave him nothing. Siena was always an open book, but she just lay there, body shaking, spread across his bed like a fucking gift, a miracle, and he’d broken her because he was scared shitless of loving her so much it hurt. It fucking hurt.

He’d forgotten fear. He’d forgotten the taste of it in his mouth. The way it crawled up his throat and lived there. He hadn’t felt fear since he was six years old and his grandfather shot one man, beat a second man to death in front of him and then when he cried had turned those fists on him.

Before he could utter another word, the muffled sounds grew in strength. She jammed her fist into her mouth, but they kept coming. Her body was really shaking now. Strangely, the noises she made, even muffled as they were, didn’t sound like tears. At. All. He scowled and reached down to slide the veil of hair away from her face.