Page 97 of The Vigilant

“Where did you sleep?” I couldn’t hold the question back any longer as I went and took a seat at the counter, watching him plate our food.

“Couch in the rec room.”

I hummed. Those couches were massive and leather and plushy, but sometimes comfort had nothing to do with the quality of sleep.

A plate landed in front of me piled high with eggs.

“That’s all for me?” I gaped.

“You need it,” he rumbled, and my eyes caught his, sending an instant burst of heat to my cheeks.

He was taking care of me. Again.

I delved into the food, surprising myself by how quickly and how much I ate. But the entire time, the idea that he was doing this—that he’d left last night because he regretted what happened—it made my stomach twist and turn until I couldn’t take another bite.

“Why did you leave last night?”

He set his fork down, and I saw his jaw flex. “Sutton…”

“Do you regret it? Is that why?”

The way he looked at me as he sipped his coffee was nothing short of lethal. “No.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Another long, lethal stare. “I’ve never lied to you, Sutton.”

My body stilled but my heart skipped, emboldening me to test his claim. “Well, don’t start now. If you regret it, if you don’t want it to happen again, then say it.”

“Goddammit,” he swore and stood, gripping the edge of the counter like he was barely holding himself together. “I left because I want to take care of you. I want to take care of you in all the ways you deserve. In all the ways you’ve never had someone…never let someone take care of you before. In all the ways I’ve never wanted to care for someone before,” he said and took my plate, stacking it on top of his. “And I left last night because that has to be your choice. Your choice to be taken care of. Your choice to continue to call me Daddy. Your choice to be mine. And last night, you were in no condition to make that choice.”

I was grateful for the break he injected into the conversation by taking our plates to the sink and washing them; it gave me a couple of moments to try and collect my runaway heartbeats. Thankfully, all of them seemed to be running in the same direction:toward him.

It was tempting. Every delicious, promising word. But the wound from Mom’s shrapnel was still fresh. Still sharp.What if he couldn’t care for me as I am and only wanted to change me?

“And if I make that choice, what happens then? You lock me in an ivory tower and finally get to play my white knight?”

It seemed like I blinked and he was in front of me, plucking my coffee mug out of my hands so he could claim my full attention.

“You know that’s not what it means,” he rumbled, his warm palms bracketing my face and tipping it up to his

“Do I?” I murmured, my eyes already drifting shut with the hope that his mouth would find mine.

“I don’t want you weak, my little wasp,” he rumbled, his mouth skating along my cheek to my ear. “I want you to be the scorpion who hunts down bad men.”

“And what does that make you?” I whispered.

“The god who immortalizes your victory in the stars.”

Zeus. He wanted to be my Zeus.

And I…I wanted to let him.

And I almost did—my answer bubbling on the tip of my tongue, but before they could fizzle free, he drew back and straightened, his assessing gaze quickly scanning over me.

Did I spill coffee?

“Are these Robyn’s clothes?”

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