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“Don't be ridiculous. You can't just give me your kutte.” I grab the side and try to shimmy out of it, but his hands land over mine, stopping me.
“It's already done.”
My mouth pulls into a frown and I look at him through watery eyes. The frayed edges of hysteria creep into my consciousness. Somewhere, somehow, my subconscious knows this isn't good. That him giving me this feels permanent in a way I never asked for. It feels like he's saying goodbye, even if his words aren't.
And that is unacceptable to me.
“Well, take it back. It's-it's disrespectful to your club,” I tell him, my voice doing that stupid high-pitched thing it does when I'm about to cry for real.
He nods a few times as he steps into me. I take a step backward and he follows until my back hits the wall. He plants his hands on the wall on either side of me. Bending down, he says, “I will burn it to the ground if it means I get to have you.”
My eyes well with emotion, the intensity and self-assuredness in his voice spearing my heart like an arrow. “But you love this club.”
“I do,” he confirms with a nod. He slides one of his hands up my neck, tilting my face up toward his. “But I love you more.”
My breath catches in my throat, and I clutch his shirt in my fist, holding him to me. “You barely know me, Lincoln. You've been in this club your entire life. And I'm not asking you to choose.”
“I know, sugar. That's why I am. And I choose you. Every single time.”
His lips crash into mine, kissing me with a desperation and passion I'm not used to from him. I kiss him back with equal fervor, trying to convey all the emotions course through me without words.
A knock at the door pulls us apart. “Time to go, man,” Silas yells.
Bane leans his forehead against mine. “I'm coming back to you, you hear me, Evangeline? And then all bets are off, sugar.” He presses a hard kiss against my lips and pushes off the wall.
I stay there, heart pounding for another minute before I slip off his kutte and drape it over the foot of my bed and follow him downstairs. It's not a statement for him, but one for Nova.
I can't go downstairs wearing Bane's kutte and kiss Nova goodbye. For the first time, I feel a little unsteady on my feet in this relationship dynamic we have. My footing is hesitant and I'm afraid a misstep right now will cost more than any of us are willing to pay.
I don't know what's going on, only that most of the Reapers are leaving the compound today. And that—that's alarming enough.
I find Nova waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. He's dressed in a black tee and jeans, his black baseball hat turned backwards. He flashes me that lethal smile of his, and stupid tears well up in my eyes once more. I don't know what's wrong with me, but this is not the kind of sendoff I wanted to give them.
So, I sniff and blink a few times, stopping two stairs above him. It decreases our height difference enough that I lean forward and jump into his arms without thinking. He catches me with a low chuckle, his hands gripping my ass as I press my mouth to his for a chaste kiss.
“Be careful, okay?”
One palm leaves my ass to slide up my spine. “I always am, sweetheart. You don't have to worry. And when I get back, we're gonna do that famous New York City kiss, yeah?” he teases, dragging his lips along the line of my neck.
It pulls a laugh from me, and I tighten my arms around him. “You mean the Times Square one?”
“I'm going to bend you backward and kiss the hell outta you in front of everyone, so be prepared, sweetheart.”
I huff a laugh. “Is that a tradition or something?”
“It is now.”
I pull back to get his attention. I wait for his gaze to snap to mine. “I don't know what you're doing other than it's dangerous. But I want you to come back to me, okay?”
His face softens, affection replacing humor. He brushes his lips against mine and says, “I'm yours, Evangeline.”
I pull back again, nervousness tightening my chest. “Promise me you'll come back to me.”
His gaze slowly crawls over my face like he's memorizing it. Finally, he nods. “I will.”
I eliminate the space between us and press my lips to his. Our kiss is tender and slow, sealing his promise. It was probably unfair for me to ask them to come back to me like that. I'm sure I'll look back on it and feel the hot flush of embarrassment later, but right now, it feels right.
Even if it is dramatic.
