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 when he worked her with his ropes.
“You like that, baby?” One knee hit the bed, then the other, the bed sinking under his weight as he straddled her hips, careful to keep his bulk off her.
Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to her temple. Another to the corner of her gorgeous mouth. Licked the valley between her breasts.
She shivered.
He traced a honey nipple with his tongue. “You want more?”
“Y-yes.”
He slid the rope between her thighs and through her soaked folds. “Then tell me what you’re keeping from me that’s got you worried.”
Her eyes went wide, then wary, her body stiff.
He resisted the urge to snarl.
“Grif, th-that’s not fair.” Her ears twitched.
“I don’t play fair when it comes to you.”
She stared up at him, one tiny fang gnawing at her lower lip, a clear sign of nerves.
His chest went tight. She never hesitated to tell him anything.
“Do you want to spend more time with the pack, beautiful? Because if that’s it, all you have to do is ask.”
“No, I like to visit, but that was never my home.”
“Okay, then. We’ll keep to the schedule.”
They’d gone several times already and planned to return after the next wave of dust storms passed. Nayla was serving as translator and prime negotiator as the commander and Ramm hammered out trade deals and grew more comfortable with the idea that they could be allies, rather than enemies.
It was amazing to see Nayla in her new official role. She’d been a little hesitant at first, but by the end of the first meeting she’d been hissing and clicking and standing up to Ramm and his sabertooth-like tusks like a champ. Or at least, that’s what it looked liked to Grif.
Nayla was teaching him to speak her language, but he had a ways to go. Until then, he just sat by her side and glared at anyone who even thought about uttering the word Gazi or making her feel like anything but the incredible, worthy person she was.
He also saved a little extra glare for the pack leader.
Grif didn’t miss the way the male looked at Nayla when he thought no one was watching.
Not that Grif was worried. He and Nayla were as tight as two people could get. Tied together with or without his ropes. Bound by a love he’d never imagined was possible when she’d sunk her teeth into him all those rotations past.
He racked his brain. “Is it Malin? Is he pestering you too much?”
The male had done a one-eighty. Now, he was determined to safeguard Nayla, and even more intent on having her put in a good word for him with her closest friend, Lana.
“No. Malin is no trouble.”
That was definitely up for debate, but not something he wanted to get into right now. “I need you to tell me, Nayla.”
“Okay. Yes. It is time.” Resolve mixed with nerves. “But I-I need you untie me.”
His heart slammed against his ribs. She loved his ropes. And her New English hadn’t slipped in a long time. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good.
“What is it, beautiful?” He released her restraints and pulled her to sit in his lap, her legs straddling his hips. “I saw you whispering with Lana and Ava. I knew something was up.”
“I am fine, Grif.” She cradled his jaw in her hands, understanding in her gaze.
It didn’t happen often, but sometimes the specter of his sister still rose and the choking terror that he would lose what was most precious to him threatened to drag him down a hole so deep and dark he feared emerging again.