I don’t want to be seen—I want to hide.
He throws me back into my seat as if I’ve burned him.
Exhaling, I wrap my coat around me tighter, a security blanket. Carefully, I reconstruct my mask, hide my emotions, and lock down on the pain that wants to explode from my chest. It’s safer this way—it’s always been safer.
“Is it so bad to want to be normal?” I don’t look at Linwood, keeping my eyes ahead. “To hide that part of me and pretend to be a regular person?”
He turns the car over, putting it into drive.
“No,” he sighs, clutching his tongue. “But hiding from the world doesn’t stop the pain.” His dark eyes cut to me, bleeding with more emotion I can name. “It means it’ll hurt worse later on, when everything becomes too much.”
We turn onto the street, and I rest my head, reeling.
“You’re hiding for now, Princess,” he murmurs. “But not for long. I’ll fucking drag you into the dark with me, kicking and screaming, if I have to. No more hiding.”
11
KILLIAN
“No.”
The cunt—Reese—stands on the doorstep, shrouded in this burgundy dress coat and fucking loafers. They look well-made, decadent. His hair is gelled back, perfectly polished. Because, of course he’s fucking polished, a walking manicured lawn of boring bullshit, who shows up on the doorstep without notice.
Three days. Three days of watching Maeve in this house alone. Granted, she tried to avoid me—but fuck that—and I was left to obsess over her without his interference. I could almost pretend he didn’t exist. That his hands don’t know how my girl feels.
But of course, God doesn’t take pity on me. He’s here, holding fucking red roses, looking like the perfect Boy Scout that he is. Even the men next to him with guns on their waists don’t deter him.
Glaring down at the flowers, I tsk. After months of going out, you’d think he’d know that little bit about the woman warming his bed.
“She’s expecting me,” he nods pleasantly. He’s too nice.
I wasn’t lying when I told Maeve she’ll eat him alive. She’s avoided me for days, but I know she heard me. She’s too dark, too strong for some priss. She needs someone who doesn’t run when she snaps, who enjoys her rage, and can soothe her worries without infantilizing her.
This guy? This fucking guy isn’t it.
“She’s not here. Family business.” I lean against the door, body blocking him. My crop top lifts enough around my navel, showing enough ink to draw attention. Plucking one of his roses, the thorn stabs my finger, and I welcome the pain. “Poor choice, friend. Maeve hates roses.”
His face falls slightly. “Oh, I figured after our date in the gardens?—”
“Goaway,” I growl, hating the reminder she’s been on dates with this fucker. Numerous dates. Most of them, I watched from the outside. While I was protecting her from threats, he got to be in her presence—smell her perfume—hear her words.
Touch what’s mine.
“Listen, I saw Maeve’s car. I’ll come in and wait?—”
My arm shoots down, veins enraged. Blocking the doorway, I halt him before he takes one step inside.
“If you don’t get off this doorstep,” I say, leaning closer. Simple brown eyes, tan skin, disarming aura.This is what Maeve likes?“I’ll remove you myself. And it won’t be in one piece.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Are you threatening me?” It’s almost a challenge.
My smirk grows unhinged with the possibilities of flaying him alive in the basement. Does he have a bite I don’t know about? I’m excited to find out. “I am. Get thefuckoff this property.”
He looks like he wants to argue. God, I hope he does. The idea of ripping out his vocal cords for daring to say her name gives me a sick sort of pleasure I haven’t felt in a while.
Standing upright, he thinks better of it and shoves the flowers into my hands. “I’ll call her and reschedule. Make sure she gets them.”
I make a note to see if Briar can fuck with his phone. And his car. He’d look prettier bent around a lamppost.
