I’m not surprised there are two armed men on either side of my door when I arrive at the guest room. We have to make sure neither Dossier was in league with anyone. We don’t know for sure yet that this was the end of the attacks.
So when I’m finally settled in, I call Candi and alert her that we've found the men responsible for Cain’s sister’s abduction, but they were killed.
Candi’s voice is weary when she asks, “Do I want to know the rest of this story, babe?”
“No, Candi. You don’t.”
“Are you safe?”
My answer’s no more certain now than it was the last time she asked me. Once again, I lie to my best friend. “Yeah. I’m safe.”
“Violet… be careful. Cain Master is a dangerous, dangerous man. I don’t like that you’re involved with him. I don’t like it at all.”
I don’t know how to tell her the fact that he’s a dangerous man might be what draws me to him the most.
She takes my statement and tells me she’ll come for a full report in the morning. I look forward to it. Somehow, seeing my best friend here might make this all seem real. My two worlds will collide… but it’s time.
I don’t want to see anyone else right now and definitely don’t feel like talking to anyone, so I settle into my room for the night. I’ve showered and put on pajamas. I played mindless games on my phone. I’m too wired to settle down.
I get up and go to the walk-in closet. I finger the clothes, stroke the fine fabrics, and marvel at the sheer volume of luxury. They’re gorgeous, every single one of them, and he says they’re all for me. I’m too tired to try anything on just now, but when I dressed earlier, everything I tried fit me perfectly.
And the shoes… good God, the shoes alone could buy me a townhouse right here by the ocean. Heels and flats, sandals and boots, an array of colors and fabrics that would be the envy of any shoe aficionado.
Why?
How long does he think I’ll stay?
It’s a little unsettling, if I’m honest.
What’s the catch?
And does it matter? I’m here for a reason, and I won’t leave until I’ve done what I came for.
But now I make myself face the truth I’ve been avoiding.
I want to see Cain. I want to touch him, feel him.
And I want much, much more than the kiss I got last night.
After what we’ve been through…
I hear heavy footsteps outside my door, and the low rumble of a voice that can only be him. I sit up in bed, my heart racing, as he knocks just before the door opens. He stands in the doorway, the light from the hall casting him in shadow, but I know it’s him.
“No one fills a doorframe like that.”
He turns his head as if just realizing there’s a doorframe there.
I can hear the humor in his voice when he responds, “No one fills a bed like that.”
I look around me at the cavernous bed. “I’m hardly filling it.” I give him a little pout. “There’s plenty of room still here.”
The door shuts with an audible bang.
I jump. Liquid heat pools between my legs. I forget to breathe.
“Are the guards still there?” My whole being is filled with wanting.
He prowls closer to me, the shadows falling behind him. “Of course not. I told them to go because I’m here now.”
I briefly close my eyes to quell the rise of emotion. He told the guards to go because I’m safe with him.
I open my eyes. As he draws nearer, he never takes his eyes from mine. The shadow’s behind him now, and the pale yellow light from the bedside table illuminates his features.
His ruggedly masculine face, lined with weariness, is speckled with blood, his jaw covered in thick black stubble, but I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful in my life. His strong features hold inherent masculinity, underscored by the harsh slash of his mouth softened by full lips. When I first met him, I wondered if he could pull a sword out of a stone or bare his teeth and show me his fangs. I almost laughed at myself, at my imagination.
Now, I know he could do that and more. So much more.
He locks me in the power of his gaze. His eyes show the same raging fury and power they did when I first saw him. Only now, I see that the simmering anger only boils at the surface. It will take me years to unearth what lies beneath.
I can wait.
He sighs wearily when he reaches the bed. Bending to grasp the edge of his T-shirt, he lifts it up over his body, the fabric bunching and swaying before he tosses it to the side. I briefly wonder if his broad shoulders ever bow under the weight of what he carries.