Page 46 of His Fury

She maintained her focus on the outside; her posture was casual, but her eyes were sharp again. When she turned back to me, I wasn’t surprised to see the challenge. “I need to know you won’t lie to me.”

“I don’t lie.”

She tilted her head. “You omit the truth. You manipulate. You redirect.”

I rose from the seat and moved closer until there was barely a breath between us. “I don’t lie...to you.”

Isla looked up at me, her breathing shallower. “That’s not the same as telling me everything.”

“No,” I agreed. “It’s not. But if you ask me something, I’ll answer. Every time. Whether or not you want to hear it.”

She blinked up at me. “And if it changes the way I look at you?”

“Especially then.” I held her gaze. “I’m not a hero. I’m not a particularly good man. I’m a wealthy one,” I told her softly. “You won’t approve of how I make my money, but that won’t change who I am.”

Her breath caught, and I could see it—the struggle. The war behind her eyes. The part of her that wanted to push me away and the part of her that was already weary from fighting this.

Us.

“I’m scared what happened will happen again,” she whispered as if sharing a secret. “This timebecauseofwhoyou are.”

“I am, too.”

We stood there, pressed close together, neither of us willing to move away.

“I’m scared of what I feel when I’m with you,” Isla said, her voice low. “It’s not normal, Zayn. It’s not…calm. We…” She took a deep breath. “You and I together don’t make sense.”

I didn’t move. I didn’t try to touch her. I allowed her to say it, letting her own the doubt that mirrored mine.

Isla reached up, her hand cradling my cheek. “I feel as if I’m on fire, and I don’t even know if it’s going to consume me or set everything ablaze.”

I leaned into her palm. “What would you say if I told you that I feel the same way?”

Her gaze flicked up to mine, and something shifted between us—like we had reached the edge of the precipice from which we couldn’t step back.

Not now. Not ever.

“Then I’d say we’re doomed,” Isla whispered.

My hand rested on her hip, my fingers pressing slightly into her soft pants. “I’m not good at this,” I confessed quietly. “I’ll probably fuck it up, but I want to try to make this work.”

Her hand dropped gently from my cheek to my chest, over my heart. I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

“You always feel like this,” she murmured. “Steady. Calm.” She looked up at me. “I feel as if I’m seconds away from coming apart.”

I gently caught her wrist, not to move her but to keep her in place. “Then I’ll keep you steady.”

“I think you already have.”

We remained that way for a long moment—two people facing each other in silence.

“I’m tired,” she said softly.

“Come to bed.”

Isla looked down and then back up at me, uncertainty lingering in her eyes. “Will you stay?” she asked. “This time, without sneaking away?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I’ll stay.”

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