Page 74 of Pretty Threats

She lowers her head back to the mattress and her fingers reach over so her fingertips can tap against my lips. “It’s changing for me, too.” Her hand slides down, her fingers scratching along my jaw and then tracing the muscle in my neck. “I didn’t think either of us could ever love the other. For me, too much had happened. It was so toxic. I thought you’d never change.”

“Some things are the same,” I admit. “I’d still kill to protect you. The difference is now, I wouldn’t just be doing it for myself.”

“Progress. Of sorts.” She smiles and presses a finger against my side.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I will. When I’m ready.”

I roll onto my side and pull her close, wrapping my arms around her. “It was harder to admit than I expected.”

“Of course it was.”

“Of course?”

“Everything you’ve ever felt has been one-sided. You didn’t need anyone to reciprocate your feelings. This time, you care whether I feel the same way. That’s love, Killian. It’s meant to be shared.”

29

RAINE

Isleep so deeply I have no idea what time it is when I wake. Killian’s not in bed with me, so it must be daytime. I roll to the edge and grab my phone off the nightstand to check the time. Nine-fifty. It feels later.

Even though I don’t need to attend classes during my internship, I don’t want to miss my ten-a.m. Classic Film class because it’s one of my favorites. After I check email to be sure I don’t have any pressing messages from Owen, I get out of bed.

Killian’s robe is on the floor, which reminds me of last night and makes me smile. Because it’s been balled up, it’s still damp. I hang it from the edge of the wardrobe to help it dry.

The alarm on my phone beeps to remind me to log in, and I hurry to connect so I can join the class virtually. When I grab my ear buds from the night stand and insert them, people are already talking.

Then I realize it’s not film class. It’s Killian’s voice.

Pulling one bud out of my ear, I study it. We must have the same kind. Mine must be in my bag.

“How’s Operation Stockholm Syndrome going?” Jamie’s amused voice plays through the lone earbud still in my ear.

Down on one knee, I reach toward my messenger bag. Stockholm Syndrome is when a captive falls for…

“Yeah, it worked.” Killian’s deep baritone spreads goosebumps over my skin. “She’s in love with me.”

Wait. What? My hand retracts to rest on my stomach where a foreboding knot is fast forming.

“She said that?” Jamie sounds as surprised as I feel.

“More or less.” Killian’s nonchalant attitude tightens the knot.

“Already? That’s good work, mate.”

“It wasn’t that hard.” The voice that recently told me he loves me, is now brutally cold. “Trick’s right. Women believe what they want to believe.”

The back of my throat burns like I’ve swallowed a tequila shot, and my stomach threatens to throw up. I jerk the ear bud from my ear and let it drop to the floor.

It’s hard to swallow. Too many emotions churning inside me.

All his sweetness. All the times he kissed me. All of it lies.

I should’ve known. He never used to kiss or touch me outside the bedroom when we were younger. And that bullshit about his being standoffish in high school so he wouldn’t get kicked out. The lying prick!

I take a deep breath. And then another. I don’t know why I’m so surprised. Killian is a great liar. That was established long ago. I keep taking deep breaths until the nausea subsides and the stab of devastation is muted by a surge of raging anger.

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