Page 14 of The Vow

Oh god.This was it.What was I thinking?I was no one to him. Of course, he was going to hand me over to Sinclair, he just wanted to cop a feel first.

I tore my mouth away, and Damon instantly pulled my head to the crook of his neck. As he spoke, I heard the smile tacked to his lips.

“Sorry, old sport. I waylaid this beauty on the way back from the bathroom. You know how I am when I find something I want…” His words and low laugh would’ve been sickening in any other scenario. “I couldn’t control myself. Figured…hoped you wouldn’t mind.”

He was lying.

He was saving me.

There was a long pause. A very long pause barbed with displeasure.

“We’ll talk when you’re done.” Sinclair’s growl made me shiver against my savior’s arms.

“He’s gone,” Damon said, and I started to breathe again as he carefully drew me away from him. “Are you okay?”

I blinked slowly, the beauty of his face focusing into a mystery I never expected to find, and then croaked, “Who are you?”

Chapter Five

Robyn

“Welcome back, Damon.” The thick Irish accent belonged to Damon’s bodyguard, the man too large and boasting too many scars to be anything but security. His practical attire—plain black tee, black pants, and combat boots—ironically mirrored my own, though his stoic expression seemed marginally more pleased to be here than I was.

“Patrick.” The warmth in Damon’s reply was a litmus for how long this man had been with him. “I’d like to introduce you to my wife, Robyn.”

I gritted my teeth. The smoothness of his voice, the unnecessarily possessive endearment, poked at my ire.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Remington.” Even the genial warmth of his burr couldn’t soften the blow of his address.

“Just Robyn,” I corrected with just a hair too much desperation. The Irishman looked at Damon, something unspokenpassing between them before he nodded and stepped to the side, allowing the two of us to enter the house first.

“Welcome home, Robber,” Damon murmured as he held the door open as though the house were some kind of gift—something I should be excited for.

It was nothing more than bait. Everything with Damon was bait. A lure to get a rise out of me, to draw me right where he wanted me—which was back to the past.

Ask me what you really want to know.

Why did you leave? Why did you betray me? Were you always lying when you said you loved me?

“This isn’t my home,” I clipped as I strode by him into the sprawling foyer.

The massive modern house was layered into the forested hills. I’d expected a ride in a private jet or, at the very least, a helicopter trip to reach Damon’s lair. Instead, I had to bury my surprise when his directions led to a gated lot in the hills near Tiburon, just outside of San Francisco.

“I wonder what the FBI will think to learn you’ve moved right into their backyard,” I remarked, striding from the entry through the large open living room to the very far side where floor-to-ceiling windows lined the wall with expansive panoramas of the city skyline and the bay.

“I’m sure that will be the least of their qualms,” he remarked, not bothering to deny or even sounding like he had any doubt of what I’d implied.That he would be caught.“Especially when they learn I’ve had this house for over a decade.”

The glass looked to ripple with my sharp inhale.Over a decade.No. That couldn’t…he couldn’t. Disbelief scratched at the skin on my arms, the hairs standing on end.This whole time, he’d lived not even an hour away from me…in a country that wanted him captured…a country he’d betrayed.

“Why?”Shit.The word slipped out before I could stop it.A syllable of weakness. Of want.Curiosity killed the Robyn.“Seems unnecessarily reckless to live where you’re a wanted man.”

I kept my gaze focused on the blue swath of the bay that stretched in front of me as his footsteps clicked across the hardwood. His reflection appeared, the silver slips of his eyes finding mine, and then he set his hand on the glass, careless of the stain he’d leave behind. His reflection sharpened as he dipped closer to me, his breath caressing the shell of my ear.

My heart raced, the rest of me frozen in place. I breathed out slowly, reminding myself that the hunter stays hidden in plain sight. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of retreat. He had no right to know it pained me to be close to him. No right to know the pain stemmed as equally from the roots of wanting him as it did from the ashes of his betrayal.

It was hard to be this close and not remember. Hard to not think about how things had been before. The way we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Or mouths. Private. Public. There was not a moment he didn’t want to mark me. Claim me. And there was not a moment that I didn’t want to be his.

I didn’t think it was possible to feel anything stronger than the hate I held for the men who destroyed my parents and their legacy. And then I’d met Damon, wanted him with a kind of instinct that was hardcoded into my DNA. Instinct that had me believing his kiss was a suitable replacement for oxygen.

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