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Until I look back up into Carter’s cold gaze.
“Will you hurt me?”
It’s then that I see through a small crack, beyond this shell.
“Only if you ask nicely.”
I accidentally step on him, caught off guard by the answer that makes me blush instantly, and I know he’s being sincere again. Too sincere, my mind jumping to all sorts of ideas. But he doesn’t dwell.
“I looked into you. So many identities, so many successful jobs, no hiccups. All these risks and never any issues, as far as I found. Why this, why now?”
“What do you mean?”
His only response to that is adon’t insult mekind of expression.
“I saw the way you looked at him.” He pauses, his gaze flickering somewhere behind me. I try to follow it, but he continues. “The way he looked at you too,Annika Backstrom.”
He knows my name.
“So, you found out our real identities.”
“I did.”
“Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag, then.”
“No, not really. I only peeked into it. Nothing’s out yet.”
Wait.
“So, you’re telling me that Ronan doesn’t…?” I’m shell-shocked.
“No, he doesn’t. I didn’t want to take that pleasure away from you.”
“Oh…” How interesting.
He grabs the cup from my hand and sets it on a small table, then pulls me into him, guiding me into a dance that’s definitely more intimate than I’m comfortable.
“You’re playing a game.” He delicately grips my hand, spinning me, before he pulls me back into his body. “I like games.” He spins me once more, but this time he stops me with my back to his front, his hand on my middle as he sways us slowly. “Let’s hope he likes them too.”
It’s then that I see him, maybe seven or eight feet away, leaning against a tree, his arms crossed, his expression dangerously close to anger. That one single look makes me question this whole plan, my infatuation with him. The worst thing is that it fuels it too.
Carter brushes the hair off one of my shoulders, exposing my neck, and leans in to whisper in my ear. At that same time, Ronan pushes away from the tree, his gaze murderous, explosive. It’s impossible, but I swear that his heavy steps are sending vibrations into the ground, right into my chest, gripping my lungs and squeezing all the air out of them.
“I’m only here to prove a point. He’s all yours now,” Carter whispers. Then he’s gone.
But Ronan’s pace never slows, and I take quick steps backwards as he closes in. My back hits the harsh bark of a tree at the same time the man himself reaches me, caging me in as his hands slam on either side of my head.
The strained rise and fall of his chest sends a hot breeze coasting against my own. No part of him is touching me, yet every bit of my skin responds all the same.
“The moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were a witch. But I didn’t quite know the magnitude of it. You’re the one who’s been putting spells on all these people… for so many years. Bewitching us with your brush strokes that cover all sorts of lies.”
I’ve heard that warm voice in my dreams every night for almost two weeks now. Sometimes I hear it when I’m awake too. It reaches a dangerous level in its haunting, and it’s breaching a boundary too close to obsession.
“The spell wore off now, little witch, and all that’s left is you, me, and The Lady… with steely eyes. Or should I say, ladies.”
That boundary is turning to smoke with each word he speaks in that menacing voice, with its slight gravel laced with fury. It fuels my self-destructive need that has gained a new life in the last few weeks. It craved a challenge, and the challenge is right here in front of me, stealing my air and giving me pure fire in return.
“It warms me, knowing that you remembered the color of my eyes… and recognized it. How delightful, Mr. Hennessey.” I say with a smirk, yet I’m surprised at my boldness.
