CHAPTER 8
KILLIAN
I’m scaringthe shit out of her, but I really couldn’t give a fuck.
Weareher family now.
She’s delusional if she thinks she can make it back to Northern California. She can’t fly, and she’s in no position to drive. If a drone or cop noticed her…
She’d be inEdenin a heartbeat.
When Brock threatened to turn her in, it took everything in me to not rip his head off. Either guilt or denial blinds him to whatEdentruly is, but there’s no use in trying to get through to him.
Which is another reason I’m staying here.
I won’t let him betray Olive.
Not like what had happenedbefore.
The salt of her unshed tears mixes with her delicate scent as I lead her to one of the guest bedrooms. She gasps as I open the door, her eyes wide as she steps inside.
Just like everything else in Brock’s house, the bedroom is meticulously furnished, down to the thousand thread count cream sheets and rare antique dresser to match the dark wood bedframe.
It’s fucking ridiculous, but Olive seems impressed. Her scent sweetens the smallest amount as she steps away from me, moving out of my arms.
“Holy shit,” she whispers, limping over to the bed. “Holyshit.”
And, unceremoniously, she collapses face first on the sheets, groaning.
The sight is as endearing as it is sexy.
I tuck that thought away as I step inside the bedroom with her.
“Better than sleeping on dirt and broken glass?” I deadpan, and she quickly sits back up, her face flaming with embarrassment.
“Yes,” she admits, begrudgingly. “Anything was better than that dump.”
I nod. “I’m impressed,” I admit to her. “You’re a survivor. Most people couldn’t do what you did.”
Her skin flushes a deeper red, and my cock stirs at the image.
“Right.” She mutters, shrugging. “Anything is better thanEden, though.”
“Brock wasn’t lying,” I add, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed. “You would have anything you wanted there. Why didn’t you want to go?”
It’s a question that’s loomed in my mind since I first scented her weeks ago.
I want to knowwhy.
She shakes her head and bites her lip, avoiding my eyes.
“I just…” She sighs. “I…”
She puts her head in her hands, then finally looks back up at me, her tired eyes shining with tears.
“I didn’t want to lose Olive. I didn’t want to loseme.”
She sounds ashamed, as if she’s terrified to admit it.