Rixen couldn’t stem the flow of pride in his chest as he guided Morgan through the bayou. Sure, no humans were around to witness them walking to his brother’s house, but every time she tucked into his side or gripped his hand, he wanted to pound his chest with satisfaction. Mine. It didn’t matter that she reacted out of fear to every rustle in the bushes or chirp in the trees, she was seeking comfort from him. And that was a start.

Just a start, it seemed. Morgan might have let Rixen own her body in the dark last night, might have agreed to be his in her sweet, breathy voice, but she was back to being hesitant this morning. Could he blame her, though? He might have spent every day of his adult life waiting for Morgan, but she clearly hadn’t done the same for him. That was hard to accept when he needed her so fucking badly, but he would accept the challenge. There was no other option, because letting her go would be tantamount to death, now that he’d spent time in her presence, tasted her skin and mouth. Witnessed her spirit.

He looked down at Morgan where she sidestepped a dead plant in her insubstantial sandals. Flip-flops, she called them. She needed boots. Pants. Protection from the elements. But he was too scared to leave and procure these much-needed items for her, fearing she would run. No, not fearing. Knowing. And if they traveled to town together, his courageous girl would tell everyone he was holding her against her will.

He was, wasn’t he? He was keeping a woman prisoner, whether he was being nice to her or not. That reality weighed heavily as they neared his brother’s home, the smell of a wood fire reaching and filling his nose. What if Morgan never came around to the idea of remaining with him? Would he hold such a beautiful free spirit in the swamp forever?

“What’s the frowny face about?” asked Morgan.

Rixen forced his brow to smooth. “I was thinking you should be dressed in finer clothing,” he hedged, the lie singeing his tongue like acid. “The weather is unpredictable here and you’re clothed for the beach.”

Morgan looked down at her jean shorts and tank top. He’d done his best to launder them, but after he’d ripped her bikini to shreds last night, her tits were free to bounce around at the neckline, her nipples all but visible through the sheer material. He couldn’t even think about her bare pussy inside the shorts without panting, his cock lifting and getting caught in the waistband of his jeans. Bringing his woman around other men without her body covered to his liking was going to prove extremely difficult, but he’d been left with little choice. His clothes draped around her like a nightgown and she’d only scoffed when he’d suggested it.

“When we reach my brother’s house, I will ask if you can borrow some clothes. Just until I’m able to make a trip to town.”

A tree rustled above and Morgan jumped, throwing herself into his side. “You had everything else ready. An extra toothbrush, scented lotion, your sexual expertise. Why no clothes?”

Rixen’s face colored. “I thought you would arrive more prepared.”

“Like maybe God would send me with a little suitcase full of essentials?”

“You’re laughing at me.”

“No.” She surprised Rixen by winking up at him. “You’ve been really sweet to me, as far as kidnappers go. You get a glowing report.”

Was she flirting with him or being sarcastic? If only he’d studied books about female behavior, maybe he wouldn’t be so lost right now. He nodded to the camera around her neck. “Do you want to take some pictures, my gift?”

“I’m dying to. This place is kind of scary, but…it’s eerily pretty.” She blew out a breath and let go of his hand to point into the distance. “See how those shafts of sunlight split apart the trees. I want to shoot it from, like, ninety angles. Different exposures.”

Rixen’s earlier hope returned. When they sat at the kitchen table and she’d confided about her desire to learn a location’s secrets and photograph it, he’d started to glimpse possibilities. Yes, the swamp could be an intimidating place, but he knew from experience people could adapt. Rixen was born to this land, along with his brothers. But some came here to escape the demands of society, others were brought here—like his sisters-in-law. Once Morgan knew how to navigate the Everglades in a safe manner, she could learn to call it home. Even learn to be happy. With him. “Go. I would like to watch you work.”

Excitement danced in her features. “Won’t we be late?”

He caught her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. “You are most important, Morgan.”

They stared at one another for a long moment and Rixen’s heart started to pound triple time, his intuition telling him Morgan was beginning to feel something for him. Why else would that pulse at the base of her neck be fluttering so fast, her eyes softer than usual as their bodies moved closer, closer beneath the trees. As if gravity wouldn’t allow for anything else. Before he could bend forward and kiss her exquisite mouth, though, she danced away and began taking pictures, her skin noticeably flushed.

Rixen did his best to content himself watching Morgan crouch down and go up on her toes to catch different angles, even though his cock was a stiff rod inside his jeans. At one point, she couldn’t get high enough for a shot, so Rixen threw her up on one shoulder. It felt so good providing a place for her to rest, he continued the remaining distance to his brother’s house with Morgan seated there. Her creamy, naked thighs so close to his mouth did nothing to ease his aroused condition, but the sound of her giggle sent a happy jolt to his heart.

That happy jolt waned when his youngest brother answered the door, a toothpick stuck in the corner of his mouth. The little piece of wood fell to the ground when he caught sight of Morgan, his posture going from lazy to alert. “This…” Rod started. “This is your bride, Rixen?”

Morgan shifted from her perch. “Bride?”

The awe in Rod’s voice had not pleased him. In fact, nothing about his brothers pleased him, but they were family and Rixen, as the oldest, refused to shirk his commitment to them. It was written in blood, whether he liked it or not. “Yes.” He let Morgan slide off his shoulder, catching her against his chest. “She is mine.”

His middle brother, Gus, joined Rod in the doorway. “No way.” He gave a rasping laugh. “Is she blind or some shit?”

“Yeah.” Both brothers doubled over, laughing in earnest now. “She couldn’t have actually seen you, brother.”

Gus took a step closer—too close—and Rixen growled, curving his body around Morgan protectively. “Blink twice if you’re being held against your will,” Gus said on the tail end of a guffaw. “Girl looks like you, she has to have better options. Any other options.”

Dread settled in Rixen’s belly. This was it. Morgan was going to seek aid from his own brothers. The men who’d been ridiculing him since they learned how to speak. Since they realized he was bigger and uglier than everyone else. Instead, Moran skirted around Rixen and extended her hand toward Gus and Rod. “I’m Morgan. The gift. Nice to meet you.” She shook both of their hands. “Now if you’re finished being dicks, maybe you could invite us in?”