His eyes flashed emerald. “Leave.” His nose brushed mine as he bent, forcing the command into my lungs.
I snapped.
My arms swooped up, wrapping like vines around his neck. I yanked him into me, uncaring of his injuries.
He grunted as my lips slammed onto his.
I kissed him as hotly and as fiercely as he’d kissed me. I let him taste the difference between desire and lies. I let him sample my heart all over again.
He broke his tightly reined leash.
His fingers dove into my hair, tangling and knotting, jerking my head back to plunge his tongue past my teeth.
My legs buckled, but it didn’t matter. He scooped me into his arms, squeezing me against him, plastering us together as if he could never bear to be apart.
A savage snarl echoed in his mouth as he kissed me so, so hard.
I forgot about my headache, about this afternoon, about him leaving, vanishing, our jilted love story.
I kissed him with apologies and promises. I opened wide and gave him everything.
And he took.
Ruthlessly and with no finesse, he kissed me as if we were teenagers again, possessed by hormones, in love with the idea of forever.
His head tilted, kissing my mouth, my jaw, back to my mouth. His tongue was a spear, conquering inside me—forcing me to yield to his complicated desire.
I gave in. I wanted him to—
“Fuck!” He roared like a beast, ripping himself away.
I tripped at the sudden emptiness of my arms, wincing at the licking lust that’d turned into a snake inside my belly, devouring every butterfly, sinking venomous fangs into every hope.
He stumbled away as if he had to put distance between us in case he did something unforgivable.
Touching burning lips, I was breathless around tattered heartbeats. “Gil.”
He didn’t reply, tripping his way into the kitchen and gripping the countertop with both hands. White knuckles and braced legs, his head hung between his shoulders as if bowing at the feet of whatever demon who’d trapped him.
I wanted to go to him.
I wanted to hug him, help him, heal him, but...that kiss had ripped out my insides. I was seconds away from bursting into tears. I was lost and hurting, and if I touched him now, I didn’t know what would happen.
Didn’t know if we’d find our way back together or if I’d break everything.
I didn’t want to take that chance.
I wasn’t brave enough to take that chance.
With tears blinding me, I bolted from his lounge, through his office, and into the warehouse. With jerky steps, I fast-tracked to my handbag, grabbed my phone and winced as the envelope of cash cut my finger.
He’d looked horrified that I’d figured out he’d paid me too much. Guilty for paying me for a kiss.
Well, I’d stolen a kiss this time.
We were even.
Placing the envelope on the painting table where his air compressor and paint vials lived, I looked over my shoulder.
Part of me begged him to chase after me. To have vindication that this blinding connection was real. But as my heartbeats grew wilder instead of calm, and my body shook from everything that’d happened, Gil didn’t appear.
He didn’t chase.
He let me run.
He wanted me to leave.
I’ll come back.
I nodded to my promise.
I’ll come back...when I’m strong enough.
When I had the power to break Gil into admitting the truth.
When I had the courage to ask him to keep me.
I had nothing.
I had no dance. No family. No friends.
Once upon a time, I’d had Gil.
And I would fight with everything I had to have him again.
Keep him safe.
With shallow breaths, I slung my handbag onto my shoulder and unlocked my phone.
Keep that bastard away from him.
Dialling the police, I hadn’t gotten two steps before the line connected with a brusque female, “What’s your emergency?”
Protect him.
“Hi, um, I’d like to report an attempted kidnapping?”
The operator tapped something in the background. “Time the incident occurred?”
“About an hour ago. Outside Total Trickery—a warehouse down in the industrial area in Birmingham. He...he attempted to drag me into a van.”
Help him.
“Okay, we’re sending officers right away.”
“Oh, no need. He’s gone. I was able to escape.”
“Do you have a description? A license plate number?”
Heal him.
“Yes.” Opening the pedestrian door to leave, I recited. “I got his plate. It’s XT8—”
Something slammed me into the metal roller.
My phone tumbled from my hand.
I slipped quick and deep into darkness.
Chapter Twelve
______________________________
Gil
-The Past-
“YOU DON’T HAVE to walk me home every day, you know.” Olin flicked me a smile.
A smile that held a few months of history. A smile that said we were friends based on time and not just want.
“I know.” I hoisted her bag higher along with mine, carrying both like a gentleman should. I wasn’t a gentleman. But I went out of my way so she never figured that out.
“It’s on the opposite side of town where you live.”
I stilled. “How do you know where I live?” Ever since the incident with the blood a few months ago, I’d been careful to keep everything about my home life a mystery. I liked Olin too much to let her know I wasn’t a straightforward kid like the others in our class. I liked that she liked me for me. I liked that there was no pity in her eyes. No sorrow. No charity.
“I don’t.” She sighed, used to me withdrawing on topics of my health and home. “But I’m not blind and I’m not stupid, Gil.” Coming toward me, she slipped her hand into mine.
Just like the first time she’d done that, I jumped and sucked in a breath, not used to such kindness from touch. Not prepared for the feral need to demand more.
Having Olin touch me soothed something broken inside me, but it also condemned me to more pain imaginable.
Schooling the churning confusion in my belly, I squeezed her fingers with propriety.
We walked for a time, strolling through quaint neighbourhoods and beneath manicured trees before she murmured, “I know you don’t have it easy, Gil. I wasn’t going to ask but...” She tugged me to a stop on the curb of some pretty white house with its pretty white fence. “I’m worried about you. Who hurts you? Your dad? Your mum? You know you don’t have to put up with it, right? We can tell someone. Get you help.”
I yanked my hand from hers, stalking forward with two bags banging against my rigid frame. “It’s late. Your parents will be wondering where you are.”
She laughed sadly, trotting to keep up with me. “You know they don’t wonder. They’re in Italy again this week.”
I kept my gaze locked on the horizon. In the few months I’d been walking Olin home from school, I hadn’t once met her parents.
She hadn’t been lying about living alone.
“Just leave it, Olin.”
We didn’t speak again until I opened the small iron gate and marched up the path to her front door. Her home would’ve been the postcard for any perfect family if it hadn’t been as tainted as my hovel on the other side of town. Mine gave no illusions about being destitute in both love and kindness, but Olin’s lied with its silver sashes and white render.