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Yet, horrifyingly charming man who has the power to somehow affect my body’s physiological responses. Because my heart thunders against his. My knees quiver… and I don’t think it’s because of my recent ordeal. Worst of all, my thighs tremble, and my mind wanders.
I know my objectives. I know who my enemy is. Felix Malone is the devil, and he’s staring straight down into my soul.
Yet, my mind considers what going to bed with him would be like.
It’d probably be the last thing I ever do, but curiosity has killed lesser women. And his track record begs the question: could it be worth it?
Shit.
I close my eyes to break the connection he’s so skilled at creating, then I lean on him and let him think me weak. I let him dress me. And feed me. I let him take care of me.
Then when the time is right,and I can move around on my own again, I’ll let him burn.
Alone.
He’s already committed his crimes; he and his family both. Eventually, he must pay for them.
That’s the way it has to be.
13
FELIX
MAKING DEALS. SPLITTING SKULLS.
Islide a fresh t-shirt over Christabelle’s head and provide her with clean underwear—mine, not a random pair from a nasty box of leftovers.It’s the chivalrous thing to do.
I brush her hair again, though the action seems to trigger her exasperation, then I sweep her into my arms, her too-few pounds making so much more sense, now that I know her diabetic secret.
“You don’t have to carry me,” she grumbles. Though she sure as shit snuggles close and rests her head on my shoulder. “I can get around on my own.”
“We’re going downstairs.” I walk the long hall, past soldiers who’ve been placed inside my home now that four of five Malones are in residence at the same time, then I start down, taking care not to misstep and send the poor woman hurtling to her death. “You can’t even stand on your own without falling.”
“Somehow, I’ve managed twenty-seven years without your help.” Fucccccck her, because her fingers stroke the back of my neck. Her nails, scratching and playing with the longer strands of hair. “Let me go home, and I’ll be fine.”
“You’re not leaving yet.” I descend from the third floor to the second. “I have a business deal I’d like to discusswith you.”
Just like I knew it would, her body hardens in my arms. “A business deal? Are you insane?”
Soft laughter makes my chest bounce as we come closer to the voices downstairs, approaching civilization for the first time in a while. “Not diagnosed, but we’ve all had our suspicions. Anyway, I want to talk to you about the things you write. Come to an agreement.”
“You want me to stop writing about you.” She sets her head against my shoulder and exhales. “Yeah, I got it.”
“Well… not exactly.” I step off the final stair and turn to the right, toward the chatter between my brothers. “I was actually mulling over the questions you asked about our mothers.”
Of course she jerks her head up again and her eyes stop on mine.
“You have a keen interest in knowing about the women who birthed us—and we just so happen tonotknow who those women were. So… maybe you can workwithus to figure it out. Answer your questions. Answer ours. We’re all heading to the same destination, Darling. Might as well pool our resources.”
“That her?”
I glance up and find Cato standing in the hall, his shaggy black hair still hanging too long. He’s the youngest of us. Freshly turned eighteen. But as I carry Christabelle closer, he studies her long, bare legs and grins. “She’s cute.”
“Fuck off, Cato.” I come to a stop, since I can’t push past him without slamming her head against the wall. “Move.”
“C-Cato?” Christabelle’s entire body turns to stone. Her heart, pounding against my bicep. Her eyes, silver and sharp as a knife, despite her rough night, study the boy so long, my pulse quickens in response. “Um…”
“Hey.” He looks at her the way men look at women, cocking his head to the side and smirking. “I read that shit you wrote about me.”
