Page 65 of Little Blue

I recover from the shock of her words slowly.

She waits, patiently, for my reply.

I clear my throat, working the pad of my thumb into the back of her arched neck. She moans. I savor it like the rarest of wine, the sweetest of chocolate.

This woman.

I don’t want to lie to her. “I’ve killed many men, Irelynn.”

She doesn’t even look at me. My hands work the tension from her body as her head rests against her arms, her lovely eyes closed as though she’s not in the presence of a monster. A killer. An abomination of everything good and tender that she deserves.

When she says nothing, I ask, “That doesn’t frighten you anymore?”

Her shoulder lifts in a shrug, but her eyes remain closed. “Are you going to hurt me?”

“Never.” When she fails to reply, something resembling annoyance pricks inside me. “Do you believe me?”

“Would it matter either way?”

“No.”

She laughs. Why is she laughing? Then, “Will you tell me about your childhood?”

“Will you tell me about yours?”

“Yes.” Behind that one word, I hear the ocean of sadness that swims in her lovely blue eyes.

My heart thuds. I suddenly need to know everything, and I need to know now. My hands move to her arms as I rub the suds in soothing circles. “You first.”

She shakes her head, withholding stubbornly. “That’s not how this works.”

I sigh, not sure how much I should tell her. “I’m the middle of two brothers. My youngest brother is Kane Volkov, from a band you might recognize as Devils Heartbreak.”

At her gasp, I know that she does, in fact, recognize the name of the band, and probably the name of my brother.

I feel jealous.

Finally, her blue eyes are open, and she’s lifted her head to look at me. “He’s your brother?” Her eyes are raking over me now, and she nods to herself. “I guess I can see the resemblance. But you’re?—”

My hands stop moving over her skin. “I’m what?”

Less?

Am I holding my breath?

“You’re so much more intense.” Her words are so quiet, and yet they crash into me like the violent wave of an angry sea.

I am more.

I resume rubbing the suds into her skin, aware now, of the goosebumps that pebble her flesh. “My older brother’s name is Kirill. He runs Volk Vault Bank.”

I don’t expect her to recognize my older brother. She leans into my touch. “Are you close?”

“If you’re asking if I care for them, then yes, I do.”

“Do you see them often?”

“No, not often. But when I can.”

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