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“I know.” I throw my hands up. “I’m your priority.”
He nods, expression even. “You are. I will always put your well-being before mine.” His stare bores into mine. “Always.”
Something about the way he looks at me makes me think he’s not simply saying this as a member of the royal guard and my temporary chief protection officer.
Instead, he’s saying it as someone who cares about me. As someone who couldn’t live with himself if anything happened to me.
I hadn’t even stopped to think what Creed must be going through right now. What he’s been going through since he noticed that guy aim his weapon at me. He didn’t even hesitate in throwing himself on top of me, getting shot in the process. I understand it’s his job. Still, I can’t imagine the terror that must have gripped him when he saw my life was on the line. Unlike me, he didn’t let it consume him. He acted as he was trained, even though he may have died in the process.
I’m not sure I’ve ever done anything to warrant such a sacrifice, apart from being born.
I clear my throat. “Any word on the shooter?”
“His name is Charles Thacker.”
“Is he in custody?”
He adjusts his position on the bed, obviously in pain. I want to storm out of here and demand a doctor come treat him immediately. It seems patently unfair I’ve already been patched up for my minor scrapes and bruises when Creed’s been sitting here, a gaping wound in his bicep, slicing a stunning tattoo of a knight chess piece in half.
“He was observed fleeing the scene on foot. Some of the team saw the car he got into and gave the plate information to the local authorities. His vehicle was reported a few kilometers away at a park. When they approached the car, they saw blood staining the window.” Creed swallows hard. “He’d taken his own life.”
“Who is he? And why did—”
“He foundedThe Modern Times, an online news site that specializes in publishing more…controversial pieces. Ones most mainstream news sources wouldn’t. He was also a staunch anti-monarchist. It is believed he’d been planning this. Several additional weapons were found in his car, as well as aerial maps of the various locations you’d be going this week, complete with potential motorcade routes, as well as the best places to attack.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, lips pinching into a tight line, the veins in his neck throbbing. “When we changed plans, he used that to his advantage. He used my lack of adequate preparation to his advantage.”
“Hey.” I cover his hand on mine. “This isnotyour fault.”
“The second I agreed to let you stay at that soup kitchen a moment longer than planned, I put your life at risk. So yes, Esme. Itismy fault.”
“Plans change all the time. And you know damn well nothing you said or did could have prevented me from staying.”
“I could have refused.Shouldhave refused. Should have picked you up and forced you into that SUV kicking and screaming if that’s what it took. I promised the General of the Royal Guard I wouldn’t allow our past to cloud my judgment. Yet that’s precisely what I did. I allowed my feelings for you to—” he stops short, flinging his wide gaze to mine.
“You still have feelings for me?”
I don’t know why this matters so much. It shouldn’t. I’m with Tristan. But there’s this part of me that needs to know I still possess even a sliver of Creed’s heart.
Because he still possesses a huge part of mine.
Even if I wish he didn’t.
He opens his mouth, his steely determination making me think he’s about to tell me he doesn’t have feelings for me. Not like I think. Not like Iwant.
Then he sighs, his expression softening with a vulnerability I haven’t seen in a while. Perhaps since the night all those years ago when he begged me to stay with him. To run away and start a life.
When he told me he loved me.
My surroundings seem to disappear as I wait for his response. I no longer hear the constant beeping of nearby machines. No longer hear occasional announcements over the intercom. No longer hear nurses discussing various patients’ treatment with each other. The only thing I do hear is the thrumming of my heart.
“I think no matter how much time passes, I will always have a weak spot for you. I will always have feelings for you. And that thought fucking terrifies me more than getting shot ever will.”
“Why?” I lean closer, tension mounting between us.
But it’s no longer strained.
It’s fire.
