“And I’m not?” he countered. She had nothing to say to that. He looked her over with visible contempt—the school uniform skirt and white button-up blouse. She saw his words coming half a second before he spoke. “Maybe you should take care of yourself a little more often and release some of that tension.”
The filthy comment had her bristling—and had her forgetting all about the apology she had been trying desperately to make. “I’m not in the mood for your obscene jokes—”
“And I’m not in the mood for your whining,” he snapped. He set the paper aside, pushed out from the island, and stood. Loren found herself pressing back into the counter so hard, the edge of the quartz dug into the small of her back. Darien made a point of walking menacingly close to her as he rounded the island, heading for the sink. In a voice so quiet she barely heard him, he muttered, “I should spare myself this headache and let you turn yourself in.”
Loren’s head felt like it toppled off her shoulders. “What did you just say?” she sputtered, swaying on her feet.
Darien set his mug down in the sink so hard it almost cracked. Something about the set of his jaw told her he was regretting his words. “Nothing,” he snapped, waving her away. He turned the hot tap on full and grabbed the dish sponge.
“That’s what you heard at Cain’s house, isn’t it? That’s why you were so angry.” Silence.“Tell me.”A heavy, dreadful pause. The bowl in her hands wobbled, milk dribbling over the sides and splashing on the hardwood floor. “Darien—”
The mug he was washing shattered in his hands as he literallypulverizedit in his grip. Loren jumped out of her skin as shards of glass flew through the kitchen and slid across the floor.
“Sabrine’s captors have offered a ransom,” he said, his words lashing out like the crack of a whip. “They’ll release her if the target they are really after turns herself in.” He looked her over with a gaze that could cut. “Ifyouturn yourself in.”
Loren was slamming the bowl down on the counter and sprinting for the entrance hall before she fully realized what she was doing. Her fingers had gone to her neck and snapped the gold chain that held the Avertera talisman before she could stop herself.
The front door. All she needed was to get to the door—
Darien was upon her in an instant. He tackled her into the wall so hard, it should’ve bruised her to the bone—but he put his body between her and the wall right in the nick of time, taking the brunt of the impact as he closed his arms around her waist, spinning her around before her face could smash right through the drywall.
They crashed to the floor, their limbs tangling together. Framed photographs came free of their hooks and shattered on the hardwood.
Loren was screaming. Kicking and thrashing and sobbing and swearing, but his hold on her would not relent. He was trying to talk to her—to console her. But not a word reached her ears.
He did not let go of her—not once during the whole time she fought him, not even when she threw her elbows into his ribs and practically clawed off his face and neck. Not even when she tore the collar of his shirt and scratched at the backs of the hands that would not loosen from around her waist.
Not even as she passed out right there in the foyer, the world slipping out from under her as she sagged in his arms.
—
Loren cracked open her eyelids sometime later to find that she was lying on her back on the leather couch in the sitting room. Darien was seated across from her in the armchair, elbows on his knees as he waited for her to come to. Staring at her with that piercing gaze, his expression somber. The Avertera talisman was dangling from his fist, the chain already repaired. The pendant winked in the morning light streaming in through the slats in the blinds.
Loren sat up so fast, the room gyrated. “What time is it?” she gasped. She looked over her shoulder—at the antique clock above the gas stove in the kitchen. Her eyes widened at the position of the hands. Cripes, how long had she been out? “I’m going to be late for school—”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Darien said, his deep voice quiet but firm. “I called the academy and told them you would be absent today.”
“What—”
Oh.
It all came back to her then: her fight with Darien, Sabrine’s abductors demanding Loren turn herself in, the wall her head had nearly smashed through as Darien had tackled her to stop her from exposing her location.
She took in the Devil sitting before her: the dark brows that were pulled together in what appeared to be concern instead of annoyance for once.
“I’m going to school,” she declared.
“Not today, you’re not. Tomorrow, you can go—if you manage to convince me that you won’t do something so foolish as turn yourself in.”
Loren curled her fingers into fists. “I won’t,” she fibbed.
Seeing right through her lie, Darien merely raised his brows.
“Fine,” she huffed.“I’llstay here. You can go ahead and continue on with your day.” She waved a hand in dismissal.
The Devil smirked. “Nice try.” He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and flicked on the television. “I’m staying here with you.”
She looked him over. “And what are we going to do all day, aside from claw each other’s faces off?”
