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Like, only now was the slight mortification of what I just did in front of Damian—a stranger, basically—hitting me. And it was hitting me hard.
“Well,” Cade whispered, his lips tugging into a handsome frown, “that was… not what I was expecting. Didn’t know you had an exhibitionist streak in you. Although, maybe I should’ve guessed after you kissed me in front of your husband and that bodyguard who is clearly in love with you.”
The mention of Zander made my heart ache, and I finally slipped off Cade’s midsection. I gave my back to Cade as I whispered, “I don’t think Zander loves me.”
Everything Zander had ever told me… how could I be sure it was true? How could I know any of it was true? Damian said he saw Zander’s face under the hood, that Zander was the one who’d shot me that night.
No. If you loved someone, you couldn’t fucking shoot them.
That part of the story I’d kept from Cade. I didn’t know when I’d see Zander again, but when I did, I wanted to talk to him about that night first, stare into his eyes when I demanded the truth from him.
Cade got up, and from the sound of it, he put on his clothes. I made no moves to get dressed, though I did keep my back to him.
“Don’t trust him?” Cade asked.
“I used to, but now… now I wonder how much of Miguel’s scheming he was aware of, if he knew…” I sighed as I went to touch the aching memory of a gunshot on my stomach.
Zander could’ve killed me that night. Easily. He was a good shot. There was no way he’d missed that badly. The stupid hope that he loved me, that he’d go against Miguel Santos for me, was nothing more than a dagger to the heart.
“I’m sorry, Giselle.”
At the mention of my name, I had to look over my shoulder at him. My dragon man was fully dressed, and though his dick was still a little hard, it was tucked away, less noticeable. His blond hair was a little messy, but he still looked damn fine.
“Don’t be,” I told him. “It’s not your fault.”
He walked around the bed, gingerly sitting beside me. “I know, but… I don’t like seeing you in pain, princess.” A moment passed before he gently asked, “Can I touch you now?”
At first, I thought I didn’t hear him right, because what the heck was he talking about? We literally just had sex. That involved a whole lot of touching in certain places. Although, now that I was thinking about it, I did make him put his hands over his head the whole time.
And he’d done as I asked. He didn’t complain one bit.
A nod was my answer, and Cade immediately responded by lifting a hand to my face and tucking some of my hair behind an ear. That same hand dropped to my chin and angled my head up. His tall frame bent down to mine, and his lips met mine in a kiss I could only describe as firm.
Firm. Eager. Warm. Not an overly passionate kiss, but a kiss that told me he was here for me and he meant every single word he said. Comforting. It was exactly the kind of kiss I needed after the day’s events, the perfect kind of kiss, one that immediately grounded me, pulled me back into reality and stopped me from spiraling.
Cade was measured in pulling his mouth off mine, and once I no longer felt the familiarity of those warm lips, I cracked open my eyelids to find him staring at me from inches away. His fingers still cupped my chin, forcing me to look at him even though I wasn’t about to turn away.
I decided it then. I would not let Miguel win this. I would not let him reopen the wounds of my past, wounds I’d tried so hard to heal. The last thing I’d let him do was turn me into the depressed, zombie-fied version of myself I’d been these last three years.
Miguel thought he could break me? Hah. The broken Giselle was in the past. The Giselle of today wanted nothing more than vengeance.
And she’d have it.
“Go help Damian with the door,” I told him, even though the last thing I wanted was to be left alone. Having people care about me—having them really, truly care—made me want to be around them all the time. It wasn’t until you learned how great it was to be with someone that you realized how awful it was to be so lonely.
I’d spent too much of my life alone, and far too much of it doing whatever Miguel wanted. I was not his daughter. He was nothing to me but the villain in my story—and I’d stop at nothing to make sure that bastard got exactly what he deserved.
“Go,” I said again, softer this time.
Cade didn’t want to go; it was written on his face. He obviously wasn’t a fan of Damian, but he’d go along with it for me. His tall frame bent once more, and as his fingers fell away from my chin, his lips pressed against my cheek in the softest kiss imaginable.
He got up and left after that, and he grabbed his gun on the way out. I took my time in getting dressed once I was alone. I could overhear the guys bickering about the door and how to install it properly; Damian’s nickname for Cade was Superman—not the worst one in the world. He might not have the black hair and Clark Kent glasses disguise, but his size definitely went hand-in-hand with it.
As I dressed, I thought about the men that had each wormed their way inside, in spite of me trying to put up walls. Could I trust any of them? I honestly didn’t know, but I did know one thing.
I wanted to take Miguel down, and even though I had Damian and his Serpents behind me, I’d need more. More eyes in Cypress. More ears. More people willing to do whatever it took to see this through to completion.
I needed my men.
