Page 12 of Vow to Protect
The physical reaction to her is a betrayal. This isn’t why I’ve chosen to help. Not for sex. Not for a connection. I snap out of the pointless void, reminding myself of the daughter at home. The scent of violets clash with cigar smoke, discorded jazz music continues beyond the door, and her eyes glare like brilliant gems.
“Have you reconsidered? Will you help me?” Her tone cracks like icicles dropping to stone.
“Does he touch you?” A monstrous jealousy springs out, catching me off guard.
Her shoulders rise a bit higher. “No—not like that. Not yet.”
My blood carries sparks of relief and surprise, each one exploding beneath my skin. “Natalie?”
Raen shrugs. “I don’t know. He roped her into something horrific. She wouldn’t tell me what it was. He has plans for me too.” Her expression tightens. “I asked for your help, and you refused.” Her head tilts, her eyes remain bright and bold, staring into my mangled soul. “Will you help me?” Palms float to bare arms, and she caresses her skin for comfort.
“You don't look like you need to be saved?” I quip.
“I need help, not an egotistical hero.” Her eyes turn to daggers.
My forehead creases. “Egotistical? What makes you think I’m egotistical?”
“Of course you are. Look at you.” Her eyes follow my lapels. “You're in a piano bar, midweek, wearing a suit and trying to pick up women.”
“You’re in a piano bar wearing diamonds,” I counter.
“I’d rather be anywhere else than here.”
“Well then, tell me what you need help with. From where I’m standing, you look well catered for.”
She swallows, fidgeting with the radiant cut jewels on her wrist. “Hope.” Her nostrils flare, and she peeps back to the exit. Her gaze mists for a moment, as if she’s lost in a world of pain.
I step closer, my shoes fronting her graphite toe nails. “I’ll need something else to go on if I’m going to risk everything for you.” My shoulders lean in dangerously close. All too intimate.
Her body sways. I note the acceleration of every breath when the ornate necklace sparkles as her breasts rise. My muscles tense in a warning of roguish hormones.
The green of her gaze turns lightless and alarming. “What do you do when you’re backed into a corner, Mr. De Courcy?” She sounds breathless, yet fierce. “You do whatever it takes to survive. Finding you was my only option. He’s playing with me. The calm before the storm.”
The tips of my fingers collide with her tanned cheek, carefully thumbing the contour. It happens before I can understand why, before I can stop myself. That gentle stroke awakens something supreme inside me—a glimpse of hell, concealed as heaven. The energy flaring between us crackles and hisses. An awareness of each other blooms into a black silence.
I spurn the urge to unshackle the grotesque symbol of ownership fastened around her neck. Taking control of the movement, I curl my hand away. Every diamond weighs down her life with debt and pretense. I know how men like Blaine Casey work. Her destiny isn’t pricey jewels. They’ll toss her into a holding cell, tag her like an animal, parade her body for sale and sell her to the highest paying bastard without a second thought.
She’ll become insignificant, a creature without a past and no future to dream of.
Velvety lips part. The pressure of her palms resting on my jacket bursts inside my chest. My spine clicks vertebrae after vertebrae. I roll back my shoulders and stand tall. The slight pressure becomes the alkaline to my corrosive temper. In that silent lapse of time, a flurry of attraction weaves around us like a network of complicated webs, tugging and pulling at my restraint. Another woman's touch has crashed through my boundaries. I exhale, fighting a secretive battle.
She blinks, slanting away so the contact lessens. I scrape together a glimmer of control. I don’t want her hands on me, which makes me a fucking hypocrite. I already cupped her jaw like she was precious to me. Recognising that mindless act, I slot my hand into my trouser pocket where it should have been all this time.
“I’ll do whatever it takes, with or without your help.” She shifts again, peering over her shoulder as if expecting the door to fling open. It’s a wary check for danger, preparation to flee if necessary. Her eyes return, deepened with sorrow but flashing with a will to fight. “You don’t owe me anything.” Her lashes lower, and her hands fall to her sides.
A deep breath organises my thoughts. Numbness washes over me in a familiar wave. The small distance I create gives me latitude. “Something doesn’t feel right. Perhaps you have a hidden agenda. Whatever that may be.” I’m testing her, seeking a motive. There’s no way she could have faked the venomous smile directed at the man outside when he dragged her closer. I just need to know what I’m getting in to. “Is Natalie hiding somewhere? This is a ruse to swindle me out of millions, isn’t it?” I taunt like an asshole.
A hard swat comes out of nowhere. Her palm unites with my cheek, a force so decisive that my head jars. She snatches her hand away, lowering her guilty gaze after the assault. I deserved her retaliation, and I welcome the inflamed punishment. Every part of me gives in to the lashing. Millions of pin pricks hurtle to my cheek and race down my spine. A white-hot sting amplifies when I stretch out my jaw.
I love it.
I may look normal on the outside; the entitled educated man, blue-blooded and dignified, wealthy and untouchable—but on the inside, I’ve lost myself in a self-contained purgatory.
A slow smile widens my lips. I lightly cuff the delicate bones in her wrist, battling in an unspoken war of wills. “If you want my help, it would be wise to keep your hands to yourself.” I stare into her eyes, acknowledging the flicker of fear. “I’m not like him.”
Her lashes lower in submission. Yet a rebellious hitch to her chin signifies dignity and backbone. I stifle the dangerous desire to fire up her resistance with a stolen kiss and risk another slap. So many women have tried and failed to lure me to the path of fucking. Not once did they succeed. Not once did they strike pain and lust in one lethal blow. None of them tempted me like this woman. My gut knots with the idea. I’m not ready to welcome another woman into my bed, or my life.
When she meets my gaze, I identify sorrow buried behind turbulent forest green. The skin on my face blazes, brought back to life with a sensation that isn’t misery. It's a buzz, a charge of adrenaline, and this woman has awoken a primal undercurrent of sexual need.
