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His hand skates down the side of my face and over my collarbone to rest gently on my upper chest, as if he could pull the knowledge he seeks directly out of my heart through this contact alone.
The traitorous organ jumps under his touch, thudding harder against my ribs. Like it’s trying to reach him. Like it wants him to know.
I shake my head, the movement a little strained. “Trust me,” I joke weakly, the words catching in my throat. “Nobody wants that.”
“I do.”
His hand leaves my chest, wrapping around my wrist instead. He lifts my arm, his thumb brushing over the delicate skin on the inside of my wrist. Then he brings it to his lips and presses a kiss to the small white scar that marks my suicide attempt.
The bruises from the bites he left there have faded, and this kiss feels like the antithesis to every one of them.
This kiss feels like a promise, an echo of what he told me that night at his house.
If he had known me back then, he wouldn’t have let this happen.
Because this man—this dangerous, enigmatic man—will do everything in his power to keep me safe.
I inhale softly, a quick gasp for air.
The gentle press of Marcus’s lips on my wrist sends heat shooting through me. His touch is both comforting and arousing, and it makes me want to crawl over the center console and into his lap, to wrap my arm around him and lose myself in his sharp, addictive scent.
In the warmth and strength of him.
In the burning intensity of his gaze.
It’s a two-way street, I realize. As desperate as he is to get inside my head, I’m equally obsessed with what’s inside his. I’m almost beyond caring why I feel the way I do about him, or whether it’s safe or smart.
Every attempt I’ve made to escape the pull of him has only thrown us back together even more violently than before.
Maybe we really are bound by blood. By the blood I shed that night and the blood that has continued to pump through his veins ever since.
By one hundred million heartbeats.
“If you…” I swallow hard as he glances up at me through his lashes, his lips still brushing the skin of my wrist. Pride and fear make the words thick on my tongue. But I push them out anyway. “If you think you can help me track down my brother, I would… like that.”
The smile that spreads slowly across Marcus’s face makes my heart gallop in my chest. Not because it’s terrifying, but because it’s so fucking beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile like this, or seen his eyes shine with warmth like this.
“Angel, I would love to.”
He’s looking at me like I’ve given him a gift by allowing him to help me, not the other way around, and I wonder briefly if that’s what Ryland felt like when he bought me groceries the other day. If that’s why he was so irritated by my stubborn refusal to accept his kindness.
The way Marcus is gazing at me is too much, too overwhelming, so I quickly tug my arm back. His grip on my wrist tightens for just a fraction of a second as if he doesn’t want to let go, then he releases me and watches me fumble quickly for the seatbelt clip before I push open the door.
“I’ll see you around,” he says, and I know he means it.
“Yeah.”
The door closes with a soft thud behind me, and I head up the walkway to my apartment, trying to sort through my scrambled thoughts.
I’m not wrong. Something has changed in the dynamic between me and the men who follow me. Whether it was the events of that reckless night outside the bar or my confrontation with Ryland the next day, I’m not sure.
But something is different.
Chapter 14
Marcus’s car still idles on the street in front of my apartment, and I can feel his gaze on me as I quickly unlock the door to my building. I listen for the sound of the engine pulling away as I head up the stairs, but I don’t hear it.
As I’m rounding the landing onto the second floor, I pick up on a different sound though. There are noises filtering down from above me—heavy furniture being moved across the floor, and the muffled murmur of voices. Someone must be moving into the unit Natalie left vacant a week ago.
