Page 69 of You Only Love Twice
"A bath sounds heavenly."
Ingrid nudged her husband in the ribs as they turned for the door.
"Really?" Byrnes protested. "Why am I the only one who suddenly has blud-wein?"
"Well, you could ask Malloryn," Gemma pointed out.
"She's not back a minute and she's throwing me to the wolves?" Byrnes shot her a look. "Fine. I'll fetch the blud-wein."
The second Gemma was through the front door, the tension within her eased a fraction. Home. She was finally home.
At the top of the stairs, Malloryn glanced down at her, then turned and stalked toward his study.
And suddenly the tension was back. "How mad is he?"
"Want me to thrash him?" Ingrid growled.
"No. Thank you, Ingrid, but I think.... I think I'd best talk to him," she whispered.
Three pairs of eyes watched her walk stiffly up the stairs, as if she walked to her doom.
Perhaps she did.
She'd felt this way after her failure in Russia. It was the only other time she'd seen such disappointment in Malloryn's eyes.
But there was no point in putting it off. She needed to face him and deal with the consequences before she could enjoy her glass of blud-wein and her bath.
When she knocked on the open door to his study, she found Malloryn staring into the fireplace, resting his arm on the mantle. His fingers curled laxly around a glass of brandy, and he didn't so much as flinch when she closed the door behind her.
"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked roughly.
That I couldn't let you kill him. Gemma remained silent, though indignation burned through her.
"I thought you were dead," he growled out.
"Well, apparently he didn't wish to kill me."
"And then you bloody well leaped between us. I nearlyshotyou."
"You didn't—"
"Only because my reflexes are excellent. I keep asking myself,why? And the only thing I can come up with is that you weren't thinking at all. Damn it, Gemma. This is the second time you've let your emotions cloud your judgment when it comes to this man. Do you not realize he's the enemy?"
"I don't know if he—"
"Because I do." Malloryn slammed a hand to his chest. "I know he's the enemy, and all I can see is Russia happening all over again, and—"
"I'm sorry if my emotions are so cursed inconvenient to you!" Heat seared the backs of her eyes, but at least the craving virus protected her from shedding any bloody tears. "Do you think I want to feel this way? Do you think I have any damned choice?" Her voice rose. "Ilovedhim. Do you even know what that means? Have you ever, in your entire life, known what it feels like to care for someone more than yourself?"
Malloryn flinched.
"Love?" His tone turned the word into an insult. "If that is love, then no, I don't know what it means. And I don't want to."
A hot fist of fury burned within her, and she poured herself a brandy because he wasn't damned well going to. "Say what you want to me, but don't you dare try and pretend how I felt—how Ifeel"—there. She'd said it—"is inconsequential."
"He shot you in the fucking chest."
"I know!" Gemma paced in front of the fire with her brandy. She could still see Obsidian's face as she showed him the scar between her breasts. "I'll never forget that night. But there was something I was missing until now.... When he shot me that night I thought my cover was blown, and he was furious with me for betraying him. But I can remember the expression on his face, Malloryn. Or the lack of one rather. That wasn't fury. That wasn't betrayal. There was nothing of my Dmitri in his face. Nothing at all. When he pulled that trigger, he might as well have been shooting at a target."
