Page 80 of Sniper's Pride

“Griffin,” she whispered, as if his name was one of those long, pretty prayers his grandmother used to murmur. “I didn’t want to die.”

“Good.” He didn’t sound the least bit pretty. He sounded wrecked. Ruined. “You deserve to live a long and happy life. Away from all of this.”

She reached up and fit her palm to his jaw. Her blue eyes were wet, darker than they should have been, but glimmering.

“I love you,” she said again.

This time it felt even more like a blow. And that ache swelled until it took over his chest like some kind of impossible pneumonia, and he was surprised he didn’t keel over where he stood.

It was ridiculous, he told himself. It was the usual transference that happened in situations like this. Completely understandable and not at all true.

And it didn’t matter anyway, because he didn’t do love.

But when he opened his mouth to tell her that, to let her down gently because she was still hopped up on adrenaline and fear and it was his fault she’d ended up in this field in the first place, he set his mouth to hers instead.

And he didn’t like need, but he understood it. He was suspicious of passion, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t drown in it when he chose. He had.

But he had no place to put this.

It was a sweet, easy kiss, and it broke him in two. The world split into before this kiss and after it, and he was too broken to figure out what it meant.

Griffin pulled away and rested his forehead against hers.

“I love you,” Mariah whispered. “I love you, I love you, I love you...”

He thought she might keep saying it forever, and he knew he needed to shut this down. Fast. He needed to cut her off, right here and right now—

But he didn’t do it.

It was like her words were sunshine and he’d been lost in the dark for far too long, and God help him, but he wanted to bask in her.

Just for a little while longer.

But there was no time—there had never been any time—and, anyway, he wasn’t that man. And when Isaac let out a piercing whistle to call them all back in, it was Mariah who pulled away. She wiped her hands over her face, wincing. Then frowned as she turned toward the barn.

“Mama...” she whispered.

She went to take a step, then staggered when her knees failed to hold her, her blue eyes fixing to his in surprise.

He caught her before her legs could give way. Without questioning it, he swept her up into his arms, letting her legs dangle, and started across the field.

Because if he was already ruined, he might as well make sure it went all the way down.

“I almost fell on my face,” she told him, and then her wondering tone gave way as her teeth started to chatter.

“It’s the adrenaline. Your body doesn’t know what to do with it. It will pass.”

“Why aren’t you falling over, then?”

“I’m used to it.”

She looped her arm around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder, and he wasn’t prepared for the wave of feelings that cascaded through him. He felt protective. He felt needy and wild for her, but he didn’tknow if it was because he wanted her naked, or he simply wanted to tuck her up in a bed and watch her sleep, safe and sound. He felt on edge and he felt soothed, all at the same time. Hefelt, damn it.

He felt.

He was the one who had made that shot, but it was as if the bullet had slammed into his chest, cracking him wide open.

He had tried to keep Mariah at arm’s length. And he had failed at that, spectacularly. Again and again in that bed of hers in Blue Bear Inn.

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