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“Yes?” Her face was still pressed to my chest.
“Open your eyes. I need you to listen very carefully.”
She blinked them open sleepily and I waited until her half awake gaze was focused on me.
“Undergrove,” I said, running my hand across her cheek, then kissed it softly. “When they come for you. Tell them, Rook Undergrove. That’s what Saul wants.”
“Mmm,” she said, eyes blinking, closing…
“Repeat it back to me, Summer.”
“Rook Undergrove.”
I kissed her forehead, “Good girl.” And she snuggled into me, eyes drifting closed again.
And suddenly, the dread inside me lifted.
I’d made the right choice—even though I was a walking dead man with a beating heart.
CHAPTER 37
Summer
Rook was staring at me. I could feel it, even though my eyes were closed and the bed beside me, cold.
Blinking them open, I scanned the room, feeling a dreamy sort of haze over me, lost in the memory of what I’d learned last night. The world felt gray—a monochromatic palette of men who controlled, and of power that ravaged the weak.
The ground beneath my feet had vanished; a new and haunting reality in its place.
Rook had opened my eyes, and now, the world would never be the same.
And yet, last night, he’d opened my eyes to something else…
He was a man who despised the world and its inhabitants. He was generous with his money, but gave nothing of himself—to most.
But, after last night, I knew the truth he kept closely guarded.
Rook had the capacity for love.
I had a feeling that, if he loved you, it was untouchable and unconditional. It burned fiercely and passionately.
Last night, his unselfishness and care had given me a glimpse of that, and I wanted more.
He wasn’t by the window, in the sofa chair or the closet, nor standing by the dressers. I rolled over, turning my head, and there he was—standing in the doorway to the bathroom.
His hair was wet, drops of water running down his neck and bare torso. He wore a pair of dark grey sweatpants and nothing else. It was strange to see his bare feet. This relaxed, informal side to him.
My gaze met his, my heart in my throat. His eyes—beautiful, soulful, and deep.
“Sit up, Summer. I want to see you.”
I rose, my knees under me, letting the comforter fall to my waist. Feeling a shooting thrill as his eyes roamed over my nakedness. They took in my hair, mussed and unbrushed, my cheekbones and jawline. Wandering slowly over my face, as if he had all the time in the world. Eventually, it lowered, down my neck, across my collar to my shoulders.
I burned.
Burned for this man.
“Fold your hands behind you, and straighten your back.” As I obeyed, his gaze went to my chest, and my breasts were suddenly heavy with want. He lingered there for a long time and I saw every emotion in his gaze. Fascination. Desire. Yearning.
