Page 81 of Painted Scars
His palm sweeps from my temple to my jaw. “I’m not trying to control you. I can’t protect you if we don’t work as a team.”
That’s fair. His specialty is espionage and warfare. Mine is dropping glittery truth bombs.
“The only way this works is if we trust each other,” I insist. “You can’t hide behind your mask forever when I’m putting my life in your hands.”
The weight of my pact sits heavy between us.
“Give me time, Glitter Bomb.”
I don’t push him further when he’s given me enough for one day, and I take that as a win.
“Last chance, Glitter Bomb.” My throat constricts at his dark growl. “Are you sure this is what you want?
I rub my aching forehead. “I thought I was seducing my stalker. Turns out, I’m enlisting with him to storm the gates of Hell.”
The only difference is, I’m not the girl cornered in the bathroom, robbed of her voice. This time, I’m the girl writing the headlines. The sniper with words, cutting down everything wrong in Shadow Lake.
“You want war, Glitter Bomb? You got me as your weapon.” He signs our pact in a blood promise.
“Mace is a weapon that breaks bones and delivers justice,” I say, stroking his forearm. “Grumpy Daddy is who you are when it’s just us. A man who will growl, feed me fruit, make me come so hard I forget my name, and make me feel safe. I like him better.”
He grips the back of my neck hard. “You say shit like that and wonder why I want to pin you against the bike and fuck you.” His fingers loosen but hold me in place. “You want Grumpy Daddy? He’s yours, Glitter Bomb.”
Rational me cusses me out for what I’m about to say next. Book Girlie me squeals and searches for her powder keg of explosive glitter.
“You make me safe, heard, and at peace,” I tell him. “I can finally breathe. I’ll be your weapon with words.”
“Fuck, Glitter Bomb,” he grits. “You make it impossible to walk away. Now I’m standing here trying not to lose my mind every time you’re in danger and be near you without dragging you under.”
A messy laugh spills from me. What the hell do you do when the man who’s been stalking you admits you unravel him? “If I have to burn with someone, I want it to be you. So long as there’s glitter in our autopsies and Celine singing at my funeral.”
CHAPTER 22 - KATE
This is the moment everything changes. The fight is coming. And I’ve chosen my side. No more hiding or nightmares. The ghost who has haunted me all this time is going to bleed, and I’ll be holding the knife. I’ll show him the vivid predator he turned me into.
“Come here, Grumpy Daddy. Hold me and ditch the poetic despair.” After carving my name into fate, I just want to feel, and I let him know it. “I can’t Fight the Feelin’andI want to Come Together Now.”
He cradles the back of my head like he’s holding me in place, and if he lets go, we’ll both come undone. His hold is fierce and bruising and unlocks another vault door in my chest. I melt into him and surrender.
He traces my nose. “You’re quoting Celine Dion again, aren’t you?”
For once, I don’t joke to deflect fear. I own it. “Yes. It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I want my masked man bending me over a bike to deliver every Book Girlie’s fantasy before I go.”
My stalker huffs a breath, a half laugh, half sigh. “You’re as brave, crazy, and doomed as me.”
His hand squeezes the back of my neck.
“Close your eyes, Glitter Bomb.” My stomach flips at his dark velvet voice dipped in gravel. “Be a good girl and I’ll let you take off my helmet.”
Oh, now we’re talking. I drag my hands up his chest, pausing deliberately at the muscle under his jacket, circling his nipple.
“That’s not my face,” he growls.
I pretend to cover my mouth. “Oops. I can’t tell. It’s rock-hard and doesn’t smile.”
“Keep going, and I’ll spank you.” Every word is a dare, and I’m so game.
“I’ll take those odds, Grumpy,” I tease. “I need to lighten my mind, and your chest is my favorite therapy.”
