Page 132 of Trapped Truth

The damn logic infuriates me. I’m increasingly tempted to sink my fist into his pretty face.

“You’re talking about trusting a mercenary, bought and paid for, to bring you to a woman you’ve never known,” I spell out logically. “A woman who has spent her entire adult life at your father’s beck and call.”

“A woman who has just as much reason to despise the man as I do.”

“Or the mental damage to believe sacrificing you to her master is the right thing to do.”

“Equally, I could’ve stolen you away and sold you off to the highest bidder when we met.” He slowly trails his fingers over my braid, studying the blonde-tipped length. “I guess you got lucky.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it. You came for me.”

“I did.” He idly traces the curve of his lip ring with his tongue. “And I’d do it again, over and over, even knowing what that fateful decision would cost. I’d lay down the lives of my crew without hesitating for the chance to hold you like this even for a second.”

“Then why gamble it all?”

Releasing my braid, his palm lifts to cup my cheek. “Because I’m choosing to believe I deserve more from this life. If that means risking it all, then that’s what I must do. But I need to meet her.”

I can see his determination in the rigid set of his jaw and the hard, unyielding line of his mouth. No amount of bargaining is going to throw my fearless Phantom off-course. Not from this. It’s the same resolute bravery that overlapped our paths and started this whole journey, almost a year ago.

“Please don’t go alone.” I nuzzle into his bergamot-scented neck.

“I’m not risking anyone else.”

“That isn’t your choice to make. If I want to come with you, I should be allowed to do so.”

“Ember—”

“I’m respecting your decision. Respect mine.”

He sighs so loudly, his chest rattles against mine. “The others will skin us both.”

“You’re the one talking about having faith. Trust them to know we can handle ourselves too. If this is what has to be done, then we do it together.”

“I don’t like it when you use my logic against me, sweetheart.”

“Then don’t try this shit with me in the first place.”

“Hm.” He kisses my forehead, temple, then slinks lower. “But I do enjoy seeing you mad.”

Our mouths gravitate together somewhere in the middle. No plan. No rehearsal. Not a single word spoken. His lips are heat-seeking missiles that wrap me in a blizzard of self-destruction without hope of rescue or survival.

His suicide mission doesn’t stop me from shedding every last part of myself I have left to gift him. He can have my bravery. My fear. My endurance. My doubt and exhaustion. All the ugly, broken shards that fit us together in a puzzle painted by the gods themselves.

Because I love this man. Oh, I fucking love him. Every last infuriating, scheming, conniving imperfection. He’s mine. I’ll follow him into any battle he sees fit as long as it means we’re together at the end of it all.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you, Blaine. More than life itself.”

“No, never more than life itself. You have a hell of a lot to live for, and it’s my mission to ensure we both make it out of this alive so I can watch you experience every last fucking bit of it.”

“Together?” I peck his lips, tender and needful.

His nose nudges mine, breath tangling invisibly in the air.

“Together.”

CHAPTER 22