Page 43 of Born into Madness
“What kind of work do you do?”
I give another laugh and pull back. “That’s definitely a conversation for another day.”
Nuzzling her neck one last time, I give her a kiss and pat her thigh as she starts to stand. Before I do the same, I rest my hands on her hips and spread my thighs so she can stand between them. I don’t understand why I feel the need to keep her as closeto me as possible, but I do. I’ve been fighting against the pull since we met, but now that I’ve touched her, now that I’vetastedher, I can’t keep myself from bringing her closer every chance I get. What willpower I had is now gone if it involves her.
Her breasts are hard to ignore, but I do my best as I look up at her. She seems to be having the same problem I’m having, because her hands are already cupping my face again, one of her thumbs slowly caressing my exposed jaw.
“How bad is your asthma? Do you always keep an inhaler close by?” I ask, making her smile at my questions.
“It’s not too bad, and I always keep an inhaler nearby. I was terrified that night. I thought it was a panic attack at first.”
“Do you get panic attacks a lot?”
She shrugs like it’s no big deal, but I remember her talking to herself, describing the solid things she could see and feel like she was trying to ground herself. It seemed automatic, like she’d done it many times before.
“Not too often,” she says, and I know we’ll be revisiting this conversation as soon as I have more time. When I tell her that, she grins and runs her thumb over my lips. “You’re surprisingly sweet for a psychotic killer.”
I nip at her thumb. “I told you I don’t like labels, and you’ll soon learn that I’m only sweet to you.”
She tries very hard to not smile and then looks away when she fails, but I hook a finger under her chin and turn her back to me, wanting to see the smile that’s lighting up her face. I drink in the sight of her, entranced by her sweet nature, her ability to be so happy from just one sentence from me, and the genuine way about her. She’s the kind of person who would help a stranger without even having to think about it and without expecting anything in return, just because it’s in her nature to do so. She has the very thing I lack in abundance, and I’m in awe of it. I’m in awe ofher.
Knowing Mia and Damien are waiting and that I need to get my ass moving, I reluctantly stand up. Grabbing the knife I’d gotten her from the floor, I wipe the blade clean, close it, and then hand it back to her.
“Promise me you’ll keep it on you anytime you leave your room.”
I can tell she thinks it’s overkill, but I’m not budging on this one. I keep holding my hand out until she finally takes it and slips it into the pocket of her dress.
“Promise me,” I say again, knowing she’s not the type of person to ever go back on her word.
“I promise,” she says, but then she adds, “I don’t think it’s necessary, though.”
I cup the back of her head and lean closer. “Better to have it and not need it, Cyn, and it will make me feel better to know you have it.”
“I’m sorry about your hand,” she says, and I wonder what she’ll say when she sees me without a shirt on and gets an eyeful of all my scars, the latest one from a gunshot wound that went straight through my upper arm. The bullet had managed to miss everything important, but it still left a mark and took longer than I wanted for it to heal.
“My hand is fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“And you don’t need to worry about me,” she says.
I brush my lips lightly over hers and tell her the truth. “I’m not sure I’m capable of stopping.”
Needing to taste her once more before I leave, I take her mouth in a kiss that I fully intend to be gentle, but when she moans and grips the back of my neck, pulling me closer and demanding more, I give her what she wants. The kiss turns hard fast, a tangle of tongues and lips and teeth and underneath all that is an ever-growing hunger that demands to be satisfied.
“Fuck,” I groan as I break the kiss, putting some distance between us before I lose the ability to do so. Resting my forehead against hers, I close my eyes and work on getting my control back. I usually don’t lose it so easily, but this is different from bloodlust. This is a lust that I’m completely unfamiliar with, and clearly I’m still learning my boundaries.
“I have to leave,” I tell her, “but you’re damn hard to walk away from.”
“Well, you do know where to find me,” she says, and I open my eyes and grin at her.
“I do.” I don’t mention the hidden camera in her phone charger and that I can watch her anytime I want. Something tells me that’s not normal, and if I admit it, she’ll probably remove it, and I can’t have that. I need to know she’s okay. I need to know I can check in with her whenever I want.
Grabbing a fistful of loose, red waves of hair, I bring it to my face and inhale, wishing I could cover myself in her scent and take it with me wherever I go.
“Be safe, my little Cyn,” I tell her as I drop her hair and kiss her swollen lips one last time. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Bye, Sasha,” she says, and I know with absolute certainty that I will never get tired of hearing my name on her lips.
I force myself to leave her room. I’m not used to being torn in two different directions. I’ve always had my family and work, but those two have always been connected, one never distracted from or went in a different direction than the other. Cyn is different. She has nothing to do with the Bratva, and being with her takes me away from what has always been the main focal point of my life. I’m going to have to figure out a way to balance everything, because letting Cyn go isn’t an option.
