✓ WICKED VOWS| JAKE (Book II )

63-Le Foul

Anastasia

Jake had taken it upon himself to wake up every time Nymeria cried. Like this was some kind of unspoken duty, an unremitting need to protect her, to make up for those lost months when he didn't even know she existed. Every cry, every whimper from the small bundle that was our daughter brought him to life and made his heart race faster and I know that because I made sure to sleep on his chest to make sure his heart was still working because the shame inside of me was no more deep than I had thought before.

Now, as I sat on the edge of the bed, breastfeeding Nymeria, I could feel Jake's eyes on me. They were storms that I could hardly begin to decipher. His regard was not that of a father watching his child; it was a deeper, more complex mix of possession, hunger, and something else bordering on an almost primeval need and I love all of it. He watched me as if in me, he saw something sacred, something he wanted more desperately than anything else in this world.

I looked down at Nymeria's small fingers clutched at me, her tiny lips working rhythmically, and I could feel the bond between mother and child, a deep connection that was almost painful. "Stop looking at me."

"Not with seeing this sight in front of me." His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling in the cadence of the pulse in his neck. I could sense the internal battle that raged within dark desires churning just beneath the surface. And I know that he was fighting the compulsion to reach out and touch, to claim yet he held himself back, knowing the moment was fragile, precious. The skin over his knuckles turned white as his grip on the bedpost tightened; his jaw was clenched as if holding himself back from breaking the stillness.

"Funny right?"I said.

"What's funny."

"Me been here, a mother."

"Funny?" he murmured. "No. It's terrifyingly beautiful. Because I know you'll never let anyone—including yourself—tear down what you've built again. All I see is a woman who's stronger than she even knows," he said quietly, his voice like velvet wrapping around me. "A woman holding my daughter, feeding her with a love so fierce it scares me sometimes. You're not just a mother, Anastasia. You're rebuilding yourself—brick by brick—turning what was once a house of cards into something unbreakable." I looked down at Nymeria in my arms, her tiny hand clutching my shirt, and a heavy sigh escaped me.

"You were right," I mused, "I can see now how fragile a house of cards can be."

Jake's gaze was steady, a shadow of a smile playing on his lips. "It is," 

"You know, all this time, I've been thinking about what you really mean to me."

He lifted an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "And that is?

With a deep breath, I let the heft of what I was saying settle upon release. "In my house of cards, you were always the fool- the unexcepted one. You're that joker card in the deck of cards-a wild card, wholly capricious, full of surprises. Just when I thought I had it all figured out, you come along and turn everything on its head."

He chuckled low, but deeper in his eyes was a recognition of the truth in my words. "A joker card, huh? I suppose that's one way to put it."

"It suits you," I breathed, my voice barely audible over the soft sounds of Nymeria's feeding. He met my eyes, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. There was a wildness in his gaze, a darkness that mirrored my own. 

Before either of us could utter a word, a rap sounded at the door. A shrill nosy sound cutting through the fragile tenderness of the moment. Jake's head whipped toward the door, a growling rumble rising from deep within his chest, animalistic and dangerous.