Page 86 of Mercenary
“Is it? So maybe now isn’t the time to tell you I hate you for what you’ve done.”
He flinches ever so slightly and I bite my lip. I think about what he said back there at the hotel. “I’ve never come this close to loving someone.” But I brush off the thought as quickly as it settles. He’s manipulated me. He betrayed me. He used me. A man like him is incapable of love, right?
“Not afraid of me yet, huh?” he softly asks.
“No.”
“Not even the tiniest bit?”
Am I afraid? Or is it something else? The unexpected excitement I feel every time I’m near him. I shouldn’t want him. Heck, I want to hate him as much as I despise his actions, his lies. But although my head is warning me to beware, my gut instinct is saying otherwise. Because deep down, I truly feel what’s between us is real. So am I afraid of him?
“No.”
“You should be,” he mutters.
“All I feel for you is disappointment.”
His eyes go wide, emotion flashing across their green depths. Hurt. I’ve hurt him.
I suck in a breath as he fights for control. He jumps to his feet, snatches the bottle from my hands, and takes a long, hard drink. Then, grabbing my wrist, leads me back inside and toward the bedroom, where he kicks the door open and gently shoves me inside.
“This isn’t over,” I say, fighting to free my arm from the hold he still has on me. There has to be some way out of here. Some way to help my sister.
“No, it’s not,” he mutters, pulling me closer to him. He leans down and brings his lips to my ear.
I freeze as his warm breath dances across my skin.
“I lied for you, Madelyn,” he whispers. “And there’s a goddamn good chance, I’ll die for you too.”
26
Declan
Istare down at the plate rattling on the kitchen table before me. At Madelyn’s little show of defiance, her subtle “Fuck you, Declan.”
That’s right. The sooner you get used to the real me, my girl, the better.
Getting good and liquored up doesn’t ease me like it should. I’m still struggling to obliterate the sudden rush of screwed-up emotion causing me to say things I shouldn’t say, and to want things I shouldn’t want.
A first among several firsts—all because of her.
I don’t have time for this.
But I can’t have her electrocuting herself on the fence. Or have her running off into the thick wooded area down below the hillside.
I can’t have her leaving me.
Between narrowed, blurry eyes, I watch the plate wobble, off-balance. We’re in the kitchen next to the bedroom I put her in. I waited for what seems like hours for her to reappear, and when she did, I pointed to the peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches I’d made and left on a plate on the countertop. Waiting for her to join me to eat. Drinking the time away.
The plate finally settles.
She might not trust me, she might be wary of me, but one thing’s damn clear, she’s not afraid of me in the slightest.
Another first. I’m losing the battle and if I don’t do something fast, I’ll be fucked six ways to Sunday.
“Have a seat.” I gesture to the chair across from me.
She sits in the chair closest to me. Close enough to reach over and capture her lips with my own. Kiss her.
