Chapter Six

Carver

" S till think you can handle an axe better than me, little girl?" I ask, staring at Lena in the bathroom mirror as she watches me scrub pine sap from my hands, her green eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Probably." She taps her bottom lip playfully. "All that grunting and sweating seemed awfully unnecessary…"

"Unnecessary? I cut down a fucking tree." Forgot my damn axe, too. By the time I finished hauling the fucking wood back, I was too goddamn tired to go back after it.

"Oh, did you? I didn't notice. I thought the tree just fell over."

I arch a brow at her, and she breaks. Her laughter spills across the bathroom, turning my fucking cock to stone.

I give up trying to keep my goddamn hands to myself and close the distance between us, pulling her into my arms.

"Daddy! You're getting me dirty," she squeals, squirming like she's trying to get away. We both know she isn't, though. Over the last three days, she's fallen headfirst into the role of my little girl, playing it to perfection.

Her eager innocence and naivete are a goddamn revelation. In moments like this, she's so carefree, so trusting. She teases me relentlessly, keeping my fucking cock hard. And she does it intentionally, knowing precisely how it's going to end for her—with her on her back while I fuck her senseless.

I can't stop. Every damn moment I'm not inside her, I want to be. Every time my hands aren't on her, they want to be. I crave her like the most potent drug. Her laughter, her kisses, her submission and pleasure. She's consumed me from the inside out. I'm no longer Carver. I'm her daddy in every fucking way, every moment. She's all I think about, all I need.

I don't merely love her. I breathe for her. A few days ago, she said she was my family, but she was wrong. She isn't my family. She's my sun—the thing around which I revolve.

"You like it when I get you dirty, filthy little girl," I growl, my lips hovering over hers. "Keep teasing me, and I'll remind you just how much you like it."

She moans softly, melting into me as her gaze locks on my lips and her innocent act fades to desire. Christ, in moments like this, she isn't just my perfect little girl. She's both sweet little angel and devilish minx, reaching boldly for what she wants. She's all woman, pulsing with innate sexuality, soft and vibrant.

"Maybe you should remind me anyway," she gasps, her tongue flicking against her bottom lip. "Just so I don't forget."

I groan in surrender, dipping my head to taste her. She clings to me, her tits plastered to me as she moans so fucking sweetly.

The shrill ring of her phone cuts through the moment, making her jump slightly in my arms.

I pull back with a curse.

I hate that fucking phone. Every goddamn day, her cousin calls to check on her. Or her grandfather calls to demand that she come home. She's always quiet afterward, less vibrant, as if those calls are a reminder of a reality she'd rather forget.

She pouts at me before fishing the device out of her pocket. "Maybe I should ignore it," she says, her face twisting with annoyance as it rings again.

"You know he'll just keep calling until you answer," I say, earning a huff from her. I'm not wrong, though. If she doesn't answer, he calls until she does. And I get it. He worries about her. She's been mine for a matter of days and I worry endlessly, so I can't fault the man for that, as much as I wish I could.

As far as he knows, she's out here alone. She hasn't told him about me yet. I don't like it, but I get it. If she tells him, we'll have more than just phone calls interrupting our days. He'll show up. I have no doubts about that. Frankly, I want her to myself for as long as possible before I deal with her family—and I will be dealing with her family. They're done stressing her out and dictating her life. She's mine now.

As soon as she's ready to face them again, we're going together, and I'm putting my goddamn foot down. Or up their asses. Either way, her grandfather's house won't be a war zone for her. She won't be a mediator in their disputes. And she decides her own future. No one else.

I'm just hoping to God that she decides her future is with me. I don't care if it's in this cabin, in Nashville, or on the other side of the fucking planet. I follow where she leads. In quiet moments, when she looks up at me with her eyes full of trust, I think maybe she wants the same thing. But I'm hedging my bets, trying to eke out every second with her to ensure she's as tangled up in me as I am with her before we leave the sanctuary we've found here.

I tap her nose gently. "Why don't you take it outside while I start dinner, pretty baby? But don't stray too far," I say, the warning non-negotiable.

We've spent time in the woods together over the last few days. I fucked her in the pond half a mile from here yesterday. And on the trail the day before that. She's easily distracted and has no real concept of the danger the mountains pose. The thought of her out there alone worries the fuck out of me.

She nods, her smile returning as she leans up on her toes to press a sweet kiss to my cheek. "Promise," she says. "Just the porch."

She swipes to answer as she scurries out, already huffing and grumbling at her cousin. I watch, smiling as she tucks a strand of black hair behind her ear, the sensual sway of her hips distracting me.

God, she's so fucking beautiful, wrapped up in one of my oversized shirts and a tiny pair of shorts that barely cover those thick thighs. She slips out the front door, her head thrown back as she laughs, and my goddamn heart clenches.

I'm so twisted around her little finger it's ridiculous. And yet…it feels as natural as breathing. This is what life is supposed to be. This is healing. I thought I was escaping to the mountains for peace and quiet, but I was wrong about that. I was coming for her—for this. This is what I needed more than anything. Time with her is healing my wounds in ways nothing else ever could. Her laughter, her touch, her sweetness is a fucking balm no darkness can withstand.

She isn't a magical cure, and I know that. But she's softness and light, two things I don't thing I ever realized how goddamn badly I needed in my life until she was in it. Being her daddy grounds me and steadies me, keeping the shadows at bay. Loving her is therapy that runs soul deep.

I turn back to the sink to finish scrubbing the sap from my hands, and then head to the kitchen to sort out dinner. Until her, I never knew that cooking for someone could be so fucking satisfying, but there's something intensely, immensely intimate in feeding her food that I prepared for her—in caring for her in that way.

Being her daddy isn't just about fucking her or the filthy games we play. As much as I love every dirty goddamn one of those, it's the moments between that bind me to her—the times when I'm holding her close while she sleeps, or cleaning her up, feeding her, or bathing her. When she trusts me to ensure every need she has is met, I'm on top of the world, untouchable. And I know she is too. This is our connection. This is who we are together.

I could have searched for a lifetime, but it never could have been anyone else because they weren't her. She's my little girl—my Lena. There is no one else. There never will be, not for me. Whether she knows it or not, there won't be for her, either.

I glance out the window to check on her, but don't see her on the porch. A ripple of unease washes through me. She should have finished her call by now. She always rushes Dalton off the phone, eager to get back to me.

"Lena?" I call, hoping she'll pop her head around the corner.

She doesn't.

"Little angel?" I try again, louder this time. I don't give a fuck if her cousin hears me. It's not like her to ignore me.

Still no answer.

Fuck.

Adrenaline spikes through me as I practically rip the door open and stride out, searching for her. No Lena leaning against the porch rail or standing further out in the meadow. She's not here, not near the cabin where she should be, where I can keep her safe.

A sick sense of dread rushes through me as I turn toward the back of the cabin—toward the treeline.

"Lena!" Her name is a shout this time—a command that demands an answer. But the woods don't reply.

"Dammit, Lena, where are you?" I growl under my breath, trying to figure out where she would have gone.

My axe.

I grumbled the whole way home about leaving my axe behind. Would she have gone to get it? Fuck. Do I even need to ask? Of course she would. She toes the line of disobedience whenever she thinks she can get away with it, just to see what I'll do. Just because she wants me to punish her.

I turn and jog down the footpath, dodging roots and pebbles as I race toward the clearing where I felled the tree a few hours ago.

I try like hell not to panic, but it claws at my chest anyway, worst-case scenarios running through my mind in a sick parade.

Is she hurt? Lost? All I can think of is her terrified green eyes searching for me.

No. She's fine. Everything is fine. I'll find her on the path, dragging my axe back, and spank her perfect little ass for scaring me. She'll beg and plead while I fuck her until she promises not to run off again. Everything will be just fine.

I tell myself the same thing over and over…

Until her sharp scream pierces through the silence of the forest, slicing through me like the blade of a knife as it echoes through the trees. The fear in it is unmistakable, sending my heart racing.

I don't think. I just act.

"Lena!" My muscles coil, and I sprint, charging through the underbrush with a roar. I follow the sound of her voice, propelled by a surge of raw fury, desperate to get to her.

I burst out into the small clearing within seconds, only to bellow with rage again when I see her, my axe and her phone on the ground beside her. Some motherfucker has her backed up against a tree, lunging at her, laughing.

She looks so small, so afraid…

"Get the fuck away from her, you motherfucker!" I slam into the man, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Before he can even register what's happening, I'm on top of him, my hands closing around his throat in an iron grip.

"Touch her, and I'll fucking kill you," I growl, my voice a low, lethal promise as I tighten my grip around his throat.

His eyes widen with fear, laughter dying on his lips. He struggles under me, but it's useless. Years of military training have made me stronger, faster. There's no chance he can shake me off.

It takes everything I have not to kill him here and now, but I can't do that. Not with Lena standing here, watching. Not when she needs me.

I drive my fist into his face instead. Bone breaks beneath my hand with a sickening crunch. I hit him a second time, and then a third. His eyes roll back, his body going limp.

I peel myself off him, pausing only long enough to make sure the bastard isn't going to move anytime soon, and then turn to her. She's huddled against the tree, her body shaking as she sobs quietly.

"Are you okay, Lena?" I ask, my voice hoarse with fear.

She nods wordlessly, her bottom lip quivering.

"Did he hurt you, pretty baby?"

She shakes her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Carver," she whimpers, and I fucking break.

"Shh, little angel, I've got you." I pull her into my arms, cradling her up against my chest, my own body shaking. Her hot tears soak into my shirt, each one a testament to how close I almost came to losing everything.

I can't lose her. Christ, I can't .

"I'm s-s-sorry," she whimpers, clutching at me like I'm the only thing keeping her grounded.

"You're safe now. Daddy's here." I choke on emotion I can't keep at bay, not with her in my arms. Not with how close I almost came to losing her.

I thought hell was surviving when most of my men died overseas. I was wrong. Losing her because I wasn't careful enough with her…that's hell, a torture unlike any other. She's my fucking world, and she could have been ripped from it because I wasn't watching closely enough. Because I didn't protect her.

Never again. It'll never happen again.

"Please…don't leave me," she pleads between sobs, each sad word wrapping around my heart and squeezing tight.

"Never, Lena. I'm right here, and nobody will ever hurt you again. You're mine, little angel, all mine." My promise is a vow, pulled from the depths of my soul.

"Yours," she echoes, her breath hitching as she wraps her legs around my hips. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, the desperation in her whimpers growing louder. She's frantic, clawing at me as if trying to burrow into my very soul.

"Please, please," she whimpers. The words are barely audible, but I understand what she's asking, what she needs—escape into the game we play so fucking well, into the safety she finds in my arms. She's my little girl, scared and needing her daddy to make it all better.

And I can't deny her. Not now. Not ever.

Without hesitation, I push her up against the rough bark of a nearby tree, just feet away from the unconscious motherfucker who tried to take her from me. But he doesn't matter here. She does. My lips come down on hers in a savage kiss, stifling her cries as she melts into me with a sob of surrender.

My hands are rough, one gripping her hip, the other yanking down her shorts and panties.

She gasps into my mouth, writhing against me.

"Mine," I growl, reaching between us to free my cock. I yank her legs higher, notching myself at her entrance. My fingers slip through her folds, finding her wet and swollen, ready for me. "Mine." I plunge into her wet heat, a guttural sound ripping from my throat as I fill her up the way I know she needs right now—raw and unyielding.

"Yes! Yours!" Her body arches against mine, the sensation of her wrapped around me intoxicating. I watch her face, the way her eyes roll back, and she bites her lower lip to quiet her cries.

So goddamn perfect. So fucking mine .

I groan as she spasms around me, her pussy clenching down on my dick so tight it's as if she's trying to keep me there.

"That's it, little girl," I murmur, thrusting into her with a roughness that has her clinging to me. "Fuck Daddy back."

Her legs wrap tighter around me as I set a brutal pace, pounding into her relentlessly. She whimpers and writhes beneath me, surrendering to the pleasure I offer.

"Mine," I snarl again, each repetition like a brand on her soul. She meets my every move, shuddering under my touch, begging for more.

"More, Daddy, more," she pleads, her voice raw and broken as she looks up at me, so trusting, so innocent. She drags her fingers through my hair, pulling, scratching…fucking pleading with me to give her everything I have.

I press in deeper, driven wild by her need and the unshakable trust she has in me. My hands rake down her body, claiming every inch of her as mine as I fuck my obsession into her, marking her with it in ways that can't be undone.

I'm rough with her, wild in a way I've never been. But I can't stop. Christ, I can't stop.

"You can have everything," I groan, tilting her head back to expose the column of her throat. Her eyes flutter shut as I kiss and bite along the expanse of skin, leaving behind proof that I was there. Her breath hitches in time with each savage bite. "Every fucking piece of me, little girl."

She claws me in response, her nails raking like fire down my shoulders, leaving trails of red behind.

My gaze flickers to the motherfucker still passed out a few feet away, and darkness crowds the edges of my mind. I growl, need spiking higher—the need to protect her, to possess her, to fill her up until she's nothing but an extension of me, safe from every danger, untouchable.

I pin her harder against the tree, my hand around her throat. She bounces on my cock, her voice breaking with every deep thrust as I fuck my way into her soul, claiming it.

"Say it again," I demand. Sweat drips from my brow onto her flushed cheeks, mixing with the tears still streaking down her face. Only, she isn't crying in fear now. This is ecstasy. This is surrender. "Tell me who you belong to."

"I'm yours, Daddy," she cries out.

Yeah, she is. In every goddamn way possible, she's mine. And I'm hers, irrevocably, unalterably. In this life and whatever comes next.

"I belong to you too, little girl," I whisper. "All the way to my soul."

Her walls clench around me in a way that has me teetering on the edge of oblivion. She cries out, convulsing as the waves of her orgasm crash over her. Her nails dig into my back as if she's trying to ground herself as pleasure wracks her body.

"Mine," I repeat one more time as the hot clench of her cunt sends me spiraling over the edge. I hold her down on top of me, groaning against her throat as I release myself deep within her womb. "All… fucking… mine."

She whimpers and then goes limp in my arms. For long moments as our breathing slows, we stay just like that. And then reality slowly begins to trickle back in.

Jesus Christ.

I just fucked her against a tree with an unconscious man feet away. Blood still trickles down my arms from her claw marks. And she's covered in my bite marks.

My chest tightens with anxiety.

"Talk to me, little angel," I plead softly, afraid I've taken too much, pushed too far. I'm supposed to be taking care of her, not scarring her for life.

"I'm okay," she sniffles, her voice small, lost. "I didn't mean to… I just wanted to get your axe before it got dark. I'm sorry." Her apology cuts deeper than any blade ever could.

"Look at me," I coax, lifting her chin so those green eyes meet mine. "You didn't do anything wrong, pretty baby. Do you understand me?" I press a kiss to her forehead, offering her the comfort she craves, the protection she deserves. "You have every right to be out here. He had no right to approach you or try to touch you."

"You had to hit him," she says, her eyes drifting from mine.

"Did it scare you?"

She shakes her head. "It made me sad for you."

I groan, pressing my forehead to hers. "I will always protect you, Lena. You think it's a hardship to be responsible for you? It's not. Being your daddy is an honor, little girl."

"Okay," she whispers, her trust in me unwavering despite what just happened.

But when she falls silent again, I can't shake the fear gnawing at me. She's everything to me. I have to be more careful with her because losing her isn't an option, not to my darkness, not to inattention and carelessness, not because I didn't protect her well enough, not for any reason. Not now, not ever.

"Come on, pretty baby," I murmur, scooping her up into my arms to carry her back to the cabin. She curls into me, her face pressed to my throat, her arms around my neck.

I stop long enough to grab her phone and the axe but leave the prick in the dirt where he fell, stepping over his unconscious body. I'll call the Sheriff to haul him out of here.

"Carver?" Her voice is thick against my skin, a sleepy murmur tugging at my heart.

"Yeah, little angel?"

"Thank you for coming for me," she whispers, nestling closer.

I brush my lips against her temple. "Daddy's got you, little girl. Always."

She sighs softly, her body molding to mine as she drifts off in my arms. I feel her heart beating against my side, hear the soft stirring of her breath against my ear. But not even that erases the echo of her scream from my mind.

It's going to be a long fucking time before I forget the sound of that scream.

When we reach the cabin, she stirs in my arms, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt. "Stay with me," she mumbles.

"Always, pretty baby. Always." It's a promise carved deep into my soul; one I'll keep until my last breath. I'm not going anywhere.