Page 107 of Beguiled

Her warmth felt good, her body molding into mine while she was trembling, dragging the protective side of me to the surface all over again.

“It’s all right. You’re fine. You’re safe here with me.” There were two dozen questions that needed answers.

Her breathing was rapid and she was squeezing me.

“Careful,chastnaya tantsovshchitsa. I’m a little banged up.”

“Oh, no. Let me see.”

“You’re worried about me when you were the one being chased.”

She brushed her hand across my cheek. “You were the one risking your life. Not me.”

For her to be this rattled meant something else had happened.

“I don’t know about that. Come on. Let’s go inside.”

“What about the…” She backed away from me while I locked everything up, including rearming the security.

“Let’s just say he won’t be coming after you a second time.” I took her by the elbow, leading her into the kitchen. The lights were on over the stove, but after easing her onto one of my barstools, I moved toward the blinds, ensuring no one could see inside. Yes, the glass was bulletproof at Kazimir’s insistence, but the last thing she needed was any additional terror for the night.

She’d certainly had her fair share and had managed to come out relatively unscathed.

With a harsh groan, she dropped her head into her hands where her breathing remained scattered. I studied her while heading to the cabinet, pulling out two glasses and a bottle of scotch.

She’d been home, her clothes reflecting that much. She had mud on her tennis shoes indicating she’d run a distance and her hair was tousled, twigs stuck in her long curls. She was fucking beautiful even after what she’d been through.

Our relationship obviously had some curse placed over us. With a light chuckle, I poured two full glasses and slid one across the island toward her.

Saige didn’t move at first, taking several deep breaths.

“Go on. Take a huge gulp. The liquor will help calm you down.” I tried to keep my voice soothing. While I didn’t want to push her, questions needed answers.

After another deeper groan, she lifted her head. “Oh, my God. Do you have a first aid kit?” She tried to stand, pushing up from where she was sitting.

“Sit. Down. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You fought with him.”

“Yes, I am and you bet I did.” Even after the shitty night and the fact I’d bruise, I could laugh. Because she was safe and in my house, where no one could touch her.

Unless they had some kind of death wish.

“Your glasses are cracked.” Her slight smile was a sweet reward. “Kind of makes you look even sexier. Now you really have that Clark Kent vibe.”

“What?”

“You know, Superman.”

The woman could make me laugh. “Never mistake me for a comic book hero, Saige. You’ll be sorely disappointed.”

“I don’t think so. Not at all.”

She continued to shake, but she remained filled with concern. For me. A man who she’d wanted to hate not long before. There was some powerful justification in longing to protect her if for no other reason than to be gifted with such a look.

“You should know better than to fight with me, Saige. My house. My rules.”

“Says the man who’d bleeding from several injuries.”