Page 161 of Fixation
She doesn’t need me to be soft right now. She needs me to be strong.
Ruthless, unrelenting, and entirely myself.
It’s the only thing I’m good for, anyway. It’s what I do best.
“Stop crying.”
Her frown is adorable. “You can’t just snap your fingers and make me stop.”
“Of course I can.” I pull her closer to me. Tilt her head. It’s painfully erotic, breathing her in before I ruin her.
My lips brush the side of her neck, softly, before I shover her sleeve down and sink my teeth sink into her shoulder.
Her pained shriek eases the ache in my chest.
I lick and suck on her skin. Marking her.
Wounding her.
Finally, her hands are in my hair.
She wants me so much that she’s lost control over herself. I torture her some more by leaning back and watching her pant.
What a beautiful mess.
“Killing people…” I return to her neck, humming as my lips brush her skin. She’s better than any food I’ve ever had. “I hated the idea as soon as Sergey brought it up.”
I tell her about the terms of our arrangement. How pissed off and relieved I was that he funded my way through med school.
And now that my heart is a bleeding organ at her feet, why the hell would I stop talking?
There’s nothing left to hide.
Nothing important anyway, that is why I curl my fingers around one of her wrists, and bring her calloused and gorgeous fingertips to my tattoo.
“A barbed wire tattoo for each hit.” My voice is calm, as if I were talking about last night’s surgery. “A reminder of what a monster I am. My mom never came back. I stopped caring for her, yet I kept going. Kept killing people. I couldn’t think of fighting Sergey. Ever since he took his place as the head of the Bratva, stirring shit up felt pointless. I preferred to wait out my contract. I honored the repulsive arrangement that was forced on me, thinking he’d do the same. Over the last few days, he’s made it obvious that he won’t. In less than a month, when the contract is up, he’d rather kill me than let me leave.”
Harper’s eyes aren’t on me. Not on the street, either, though she’s staring at the window. I’ve scared her, and now she’s closed herself off.
“Look at me.” I emphasize my demand by shaking her head. “He isn’t out there.” I’m pretty confident about that. “He won’t hear us.”
She blinks a few times, putting her hands on my chest. Leaning into me. I don’t think she notices how fragile she is. I do. How she aches for me to ground her.
“It’s not me I’m worried about. I can take them on.” My determination startles her. Her pupils are blown as they lock onto mine. Gorgeous. “It’s you. I’ll do everything in my power to protect you.”
Her pulse thrums beneath my fingers. They’re on either side of her neck. A necklace. A chain. A collar.
“This…” She huffs out a breath, her voice hushed. “This isn’t a movie. It’s your life. How can you live like that?”
“You’re right. This isn’t a movie.” Harper shouldn’t bear the brunt of my hate toward my father. My mother. Sergey. My entire twisted history. She’ll have my love, fucked up and all. “This isn’t just my life anymore, either. It’s ours.”
The silence cuts me deeper than a knife. This is a different kind of pain than a physical one.
Yes, her hesitation is a challenge I’m running toward. Yes, it turns me on just the same.
But…please, God, if you’re up there, let her choose me. Let her want me. Let her trust that I’ll keep her safe.
Let her fear me and this nightmare I’ve brought on her. Then let her choose me, anyway.
