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As soon as the thought hits, I recognize its massive perfection. It’s bigger than the tidal wave, a flood of feeling so right and true that it knocks me back to my haunches.
I wasn’t led to this woman to kill her.
I was guided to her side to stay by her side. To be with her. Support her. Protect her…
I grimace, curling my sliced hand over the pang that hits my chest. Only a few crimson drops seep from the wound that’s nearly healed, but I watch them slide heavily down my torso, matching the rate of the dread that’s taking over my guts.
The first person I’ll have to protect her from is my cousin.
As if Kaz’s psyche is wired straight into mine—and I’m not sure that’s not true—my phone goes off like a seismic jolt in the chair I just left. I swear beneath my breath in all five languages I know, though this time I heave to my feet to pay attention to his message.
Well…messages.
K:Hey. WTF is happening?
K:You seriously haven’t been banging her this whole time, have you?
K:And now you’re screwing the corpse too? What’s going on?
K:Check in, asshole—or I’m coming up the mountain.
I twist my lips and fly my frantic thumbs across the screen.
D:Complications. But nothing I can’t handle. Stay put. Be in touch soon.
It’s the first time I’ve ever lied to my cousin. Which means Kaz will believe it—for now.
Which has bought me a couple of hours at best.
So what the hell now?
Another way.
In a matter of minutes, my merciful tidal wave has solidified into a fifty-foot wall of trouble. And I’m sitting here without a single climbing carabiner to my name. But in my existence, I’ve seen buildings rise past the clouds and rockets orbit through the stars. I’ve marveled at the advents of moving pictures, horseless carriages, and—thank God—indoor plumbing. I’ve watched empires rise and fall—and observed the decisions, both wise and disastrous, that have turned those historical keys.
I’ve overcome thousands of my own obstacles too. So I can damn well figure this one out. I’ll scale this damn wall with my bare hands. Or walk a hundred miles of fire. Or move an entire mountain range—
“Darian?”
But I won’t be doing it alone.
I know it now, with such celebration and certainty, as a whispered croon fills the air. Hers.
As I lift my gaze and twine it with all the violet strength of hers.
As I caress my stare wider, taking in the concerned set of her mouth, the rigid cords of her neck, and even the attentive stiffness of her breasts. Holy hell. Is that possible? Are the woman’s nipples tense on my behalf?
“What is it?” she queries, pushing up from the cushions. “Is the McMansion on fire? Or was it a quaker? But nothing’s still moving… Maybe it was just a dirt tickler?”
Already my lips shift into a smirk. My God, the woman even turns earthquakes into an interesting subject. “Everything is fine, querida. You dozed off for a bit. You’re probably still disoriented.”
“Ohhh no.” She pushes away a bunch of thick curls and uses the new clearance to eyeball me. “I felt what I felt and I saw what I saw. You’re still over there, channeling a combination of Shylock and some long-lost Corleone cousin. What gives, buddy? If you’re going to wake me up with that mental mayhem, at least let me onto the merry-go-round too.”
“The…merry-go-round.” Only the anvil of my conflict saves me from chortling that one one out. That and one other weight…that’s now resettled between my thighs. “There’s a concept—which might serve a fine purpose if I have to throw you over a saddle and show you what happens to sweet girls who call me buddy.”
At once, her gaze flares. Her thighs rub together. The most gorgeous flush takes over her entire face.
So many instincts blaze through me in return. Pulsing, primitive needs. Oh God, how my spirit needs this. And, to be honest, my ego. And my blood cells. My tendons and muscles and marrow and muscle…
