Page 83 of Executing Malice
“Leila?”
I try to use words to assure him I’m fine, but they hit the obstruction in my esophagus and all I can do is shake my head.
He’s crouched in front of me before I can suck in a breath and control myself. His hands drag me into his lap. My arms and legs instinctively twine around his neck and waist. Folding tight to keep him from vanishing as I’m flooded by an overpowering punch of reality.
“You found me,” I croak into the side of his neck.
Arms of steel band tighter around me, crushing me like he’s trying to keep me from falling apart.
“Always,” he murmurs. “I will always find you.”
I am a grown woman being cradled by a complete stranger — a naked stranger — sitting cross legged in the middle of my kitchen crying over something I can’t even explain. There are no words for the pressure rising up my spine to fill my skull with a numbing hum that muffles all else.
Eight years of waiting for someone, anyone to find me, to prove that I was loved and wanted. Eight years of wondering who I am, where I came from and he found me. He was looking for me.
It was an odd feeling missing something I didn’t even know I had, missing a person I didn’t know existed. I hated feeling perpetually like I was supposed to be somewhere, like I lost something crucial and being told I would get over it with time.
Being in his arms, feeling them squeezing the life out of me is the most stable I’ve felt in years, and I don’t know how to put any of that into words that will make sense.
“I’m sorry,” I croak into the curve of his shoulder, the warm skin over his muscles.
“For what?”
“For not knowing what happened.” I suck in a breath filled with the heat of him, the smell of his soap. “I don’t know how I got lost.”
His quiet shushing is made even more soothing by the loving palms running down my back. I wonder if he can feel the heat coming off my skin through my T-shirt. I wonder if he can feel the jagged edges of my heart puncturing through my ribs.
If he does, he makes no comment as he continues to hold me.
It does dawn on me that I may have ran. It’s the only explanation I have how I could end up thousands of miles away from him. I don’t believe I ran from him, though. There isn’t a sprinkling of hesitation or fear. I don’t even have a prickling at the back of my mind that this could all be a lie. Every bone, muscle, fiber ... molecule in my body aches for him. I know him on a level beyond simple human logic.
He is my missing puzzle piece.
I’m not ready when he starts to draw back. My hold only tightens until he gives a tug of my hair and I’m forced to peer into his face.
“Drop the knife.”
I forgot I’m still clutching the thing, but sure enough, I have it gripped in my fist, blade flat against his back.
I release it and it hits the tiles behind him with a noisy clatter. That seems to be the thing he’s waiting for when he pullsus up with me still clinging to him. It’s done so effortlessly. I barely feel the shift until he’s on his feet.
He starts out of the kitchen and down the hall in the direction of the bedrooms. I’m dropped on the bed with him following me down onto the mattress.
“I won’t let you go,” he promises, pulling me tighter into him. “You will never be alone again.”
My only response to him, the only one I am capable of giving is to nuzzle my face into the hollow of his throat.
“Are you still mad at me?” I ask him.
His chest expands and relaxes against mine. “I don’t know. I’ve been so angry for so long. When I found you, I felt triumphant, but enraged that you started this whole life without me, a life we were supposed to have together. I spent weeks putting together a plan to make you regret leaving me. Until Halloween.”
I tip my face back to peer up into his. “Why Halloween?”
His fingers lock around my jaw, practically circles my entire throat as he holds me in place. “It’s our night.”
It’s true that Halloween has always held a special place in my heart that has nothing to do withMichael Myers, but doesn’t everyone love Halloween? Sure, Christmas is sugar and sparkles, but Halloween is dark and forbidden. It’s weighted with a promise older than time. Everything about that day vibrates withmagic, such endless possibilities. It’s unmatched, especially in Jefferson where the very foundation of cute and quant take on an almost picturesque Hollywood film. It’s charm with horror. Everything from the corn maze out by Thistle Row Fairgrounds fills a soul with joy and adrenaline.
I thought everyone felt that way.
