His to Preserve

The sun rose with a slow, warm cheeriness peering through the window into Isla's room. Her scent of vanilla filled my nose, her curls scattered over my chest as she snores softly."Gosh, I could get used to this"

Her back was pressed against my chest, ass peeking out making my crotch excited, while my arm locked around her waist; holding her while it lasted.

The world was silent except for the sound of our breathing and her light snores. The frantic energy of the night before; the jealousy, the raw claiming passion has gone away, leaving behind a strange feeling- peace?

This feeling seems different. The other time at the hotel, the library had been about possession, trying to prove a point I couldn't even understand myself. But now, this...this feels like I'm surrendering to my tiny little historian. She has me wrapped around her fingers.

I tried to keep my breath even with hers while she slept, wanting to prolong this fragile warmth. The Thorne in me knew this was a vulnerability I couldn't afford. But, the primal and possessive part of me pulled her closer.

She was mine and seeing her with Lucan had unleashed something in me, a possessiveness so deep it felt like a physical ache. But having her here in my arms felt like the beast had been calmed.

She stirred, attempting to put distance between us. I couldn't allow it. "Stop moving too much Campbell" I murmured into her hair.

She stilled "Cade..."

"In the flesh baby," I answered winking at her.

She blushed immediately, covering her face with her palms.

The sound of my name on her lips did something to my insides. I buried my face behind her ear inhaling her scent.

"Five more minutes baby, the world can wait," I said trying to convince her.

She laced her fingers over mine where they rested on her stomach and something deep in my chest, something I kept locked down for years gave a painful resonant thud. This was a beautiful chaotic mistake.

When I finally let go of her, she turned to face me with wide doe eyes. She looked ravished by me, with hickeys scattered over her neck, her lips swollen from kisses...I could get used to this look. It was breathtaking.

"Good morning," I said with a raspy voice.

"Morning" she shyly whispered back.

I reached out and tucked a curl behind her ears, my knuckles brushed her soft cheek and I saw her breath catch, the trust in her eyes...I could get lost in them. I need to regain myself.

"I'm making breakfast" I announced, swinging myself out of her bed. I needed to be occupied to stop myself from unraveling her all over again.

She appeared at the doorway of the kitchen, wearing a loose worn-out T-shirt, watching me with an interested look.

"Who knew Cade Thorne was domestic?" she asked.

I glanced back at her smirking. "Contrary to popular beliefs, I wasn't born behind a CEO's desk, as an only child, I simply evolved and learnt how to cook because I'm a picky eater." I said, winking at her." 

That was simply the truth, I didn't tell her about the years before the Thorne name meant anything. Those were scars I didn't want to share.

We ate in silence, both lost in our thoughts ignoring the outside world. But we both had an issue that we needed to address.

I set my fork down as I spoke, "The photo"

She flinched in embarrassment as she dropped her gaze to her plate, sending a wave of anger through me. Not at her, but at the intruder, and for myself for putting her in this mess.

"I saw," she said, her voice low.

My PR team is handling it" I laid out the plan, my voice cool, the professional, efficient CEO in me taking over.

It was the only way out. "Firstly, we emphasize your qualifications, then we frame the photo as a breach of privacy. I have Eleanor and the PR team on it, rest assured the media would forget about it in no time."

But I felt like a liar, because that kiss was from pure, unadulterated need

Then she asked the one question that made my heart flip, "And what about... us?"

"Us"?? The word hung in the air, fragile and dangerous. There could be no 'us.' 'Us' was a liability.'Us' was a distraction I couldn't afford. There could be no "us" in the word "Thorne"

"There is no 'us,' Isla," I said, my voice harder than I intended, while her face dropped. I had to make her understand. I had to build the wall back up. "Not in the way the world needs to define it. There is this." I gestured between us, a blunt acknowledgment of the undeniable chemistry. "That doesn't change your job. We will be professional at the estate. What happens outside of it... remains outside of it." I answered.

I saw the flicker of hurt in her eyes before she masked it, and it felt like a physical blow. She nodded, accepting my terms. "Okay."

But I couldn't leave it there. The other, greater threat still loomed. LUCAN. The mere thought of him speaking to her, of his lies sinking into her mind, made my blood run cold and boil at the same time.

"There's something else I need to discuss with you; it's Lucan."

Her defiance returned, a spark in her beautiful brown eyes. "You keep saying that, you keep telling me to stay away from him, but you never say why. He's been nothing but polite to me."

And then she delivered the blow I should have seen coming. "He even offered me a job, he wants me to stop working for you and start working for him."

"Of course he did, that cunning bastard," I said in a low growl. My body was full of rage and cold sweat dripping down my neck.

He'd seen the photo, seen the vulnerability, and he'd moved in for the kill.

Every word was a calculated move in Lucan's game, and she was the prize he wanted to steal from me.

"He's a lunatic Isla," I told her, the truth tearing out of me. "He doesn't want you for your mind; he wants you because you're someone he can use against me."

"Why?" she pressed, leaning forward, demanding answers I had never given anyone. "Why does he hate his brother so much?"

"Stepbrother," I corrected automatically, the old, familiar bitterness rising in my throat. "And the reasons are old and ugly." 

How could I explain a lifetime of resentment? How could I tell her about the twisted, bitter man who saw my father's love as a theft? 

"He believes he was cheated. He's spent years trying to undermine me." I paused. I had to make her understand the danger of associating with Lucan without dragging her into the full, horrific truth. "He has a... history, a dark one. There are things he's done, lines he's crossed, that you can never even imagine."

Her whisper was a ghost of sound. "What things?"

I shook my head in refusal. I would not stain her with the details of Lucan's corruption. The blackmail, the ruined lives, the cold-hearted manipulations... She lived in a world of old books and historical truths. She wasn't ready for the living, breathing evil my stepbrother was capable of.

"You don't need those details, Isla. Just trust me ok?. He is dangerous and his proposal is a trap."

I stood, abruptly ending the conversation. I had to get out, to put space between us because I said too much, and before I pleaded with her to trust a man who had given her every reason not to. I gathered my things, the fabric of my shirt from her floor a stark reminder of the line we kept crossing and the walls I kept failing to maintain. A sheer reminder of our passionate night.

At the door, I stopped, my hand on the knob. I didn't look back. I couldn't. If I saw her face, I might shatter completely.

"The car will pick you up in an hour. Don't be late."

I walked out, closing the door on the scent of vanilla and the ghost of a peace I didn't deserve. The storm had passed, but I was heading straight back into the heart of the war, and I had just left my greatest vulnerability behind me.