The laugh that escapes me is dark and vicious.
I kneel on the bed beside her, grip her chin, and force her to look at me.
"That’s where you’re wrong," I murmur. "You’re worth the fucking war."
Her eyes fill with tears, and she tries to blink them away.
She fails.
"Why me?" she whispers.
I give her the simplest answer because I don’t want to tell her how much she means to me.
"Because you’re mine."
I pause.
"You know I’ll find out who it was, and easily.”
If it was someone in our alliance, I’ll fucking?—
She exhales. "I really don’t know. But I could find out." Her lips twitch. "Forgery is my specialty, after all."
Again, she doesn’t meet my eyes. "What if I’m not who you think I am? What if?—"
"I told you. You’re mine. I’m not under any delusion that I know you perfectly or that we’ll never have struggles, nothing to figure out. But what do I know about you?” I tilt her chin up, forcing her to look at me. "You’re fearless. Brilliant.” I smirk. “Kinky as hell. And you were meant for me.” My voice drops, dark and certain. "I know that. You’re my woman. And anybody who laid a fucking finger on you is dead."
Her breath catches.
"I’ve killed for a fuck of a lot less than this, woman."
Her eyes light up, and that wicked little smirk curves her lips.
My little witch.
Casting her spell on me, magic sparking in her gaze.
"Come here."
She fists my shirt and yanks me toward her.
I shake my head. "I want you to get some sleep. I have work to do."
She props herself up on her elbows, watching me thoughtfully. "I’ll try…" She pauses. "Back in my apartment—did you fuck around with my sleep meds?"
I meet her gaze head-on. "I did. I gave you something that would make you think you were hallucinating."
She shakes her head, muttering, "You’re one psycho fucker, you know that?"
I smirk. "I know."
Her eyes narrow. "What else did you do?"
"I’m not telling you."
"You’ve already admitted to writing on my walls." She glares. "Did you fuck around with my playlist? Did you put a Russian lullaby on it?"
I shrug. "Maybe."
