Page 85 of The Darkest Parts of Me

“Good. There are some things that belong to you and only you.” I’m taken aback by the sudden tears in her eyes, and she looks down as if she’s embarrassed. “What is it?” I ask grabbing her chin lightly to bring her face to mine.

She swallows back the tears. “I’m ecstatic, but also . . . terrified. If that makes any sense,” she says, smiling weakly.

I don’t hesitate to respond. “I know exactly what you mean, and I’m not expecting you to be fine with the implications of all this, but like I said, there’s no going back for me. It’s you and me, okay? No matter what.”

She grins warmly, her eyes fluttering. “I know, I know. I just don’t want this to end, Renn.” Her ocean-deep eyes roam into me, making a piece in my heart ache just hearing her saying that aloud.

The truth is, I can’t lie and say that everything is going to be okay, no matter how much I wish for it to be true. I still don’t know for sure what could happen. The only thing I am sure of is the woman sitting in front of me.

“I love you. I trust you with my heart, and you can trust me with yours. We will take whatever comes our way, together.”

She nods, closing her eyes for a moment, and I rest my forehead against hers. “I love you,” she whispers softly, and then she crashes her lips into mine, the taste of her against my tongue luring me in for more.

I place my hands on either side of her again, knowing if I touch her body, we will end up back in my bed, but it doesn’t stop me from moving my tongue against hers, devouring each sensual stroke.

“I gotta go,” she gasps breathlessly against my mouth. I respond by kissing her along her jaw down to her neck. She drops her head back with a smile on her lips. “Renn.”

“Yes, Mave?” I say against the pulse of her throat.

“I really have to go.”

“Mm-hmm,” I hum into her neck. She laughs, pushing me away and quickly jumping down from the counter before I can protest.

“I’ll be back in a few hours at most,” she says, sliding on her boots and a beanie.

“Take your time. I’ll be here when you get home,” I say, winking, and then it’s that word again that always makes me pause. Home. Not “back” or even “here.” I don’t know why it suddenly makes me nervous, but then I see her grin turn to a wide smile.

“Yeah, I’ll see you when I get home.” She pulls open the door and walks out into the cold, bright day. Shy jumps off the couch to watch her go, whining as her car backs away.

“She’ll be back, don't worry.” The joy that fills me with those words is endless.

I decide to make use of Maven being in town to do some chores around the cabin. I have the firewood pile to organize, and a couple of things on my motorbike to fix before storing it away for winter. I’ll decide what to do about Locke’s ship later. It’s hidden well enough for now, and soon the snow will most likely bury it until the season changes.

Shy watches me carefully while I work in the garage out back. I need to change the oil, tighten any loose facenters, and tune up anything else that may need it. By the time I’m done, my hands are black, smeared with oil and grime just like a typical day at the shop.

“On to the next,” I tell Shy. She rises and follows me. The chopped wood is still scattered everywhere since I became thoroughly detained last night. Gathering up what I can in my arms, I carry a bundle back to the house.

Suddenly, Shy starts barking hysterically. I turn to see her teeth bared and the hair on her back standing on end. She’s looking into the woods, warning me, remembering what happened the last time she sensed an unfamiliar scent in the woods. Smart girl, but unease slithers down my spine like a snake, slow and menacing. There’s someone else out here. For a moment, I pray it’s an animal, but Shy keeps growling in a way I haven’t heard before, and I trust her instincts; I’d be a fool not to. But it’s too soon to be happening again. Not now, not after what happened between Maven and me. I knew it was a possibility, but I never thought it would be this soon, if ever.

“Shit,” I whisper to myself.

I’m not going to be stalked like some helpless prey again, so I rush into the house, grab the gun, and venture back into the woods, hunting for whoever else has come for me. They will meet the same end as Colin. My boots sink slightly into the soggy ground, and Shy stays close to me as I try to navigate through the trees, looking for any signs. For a good ten minutes, I find nothing, but then I spy fresh boot marks—that are not my own—in the mud leading further into the forest.

“Damn it,” I say quietly to myself. If Locke weren’t already dead, I’d kill him again for leading someone here. I decide to hike up and around, hoping to catch them by surprise by coming from the other direction.

It takes me another fifteen minutes, but I find it, or at least a ship. It’s a newer model than Locke’s, the sleek, narrow design similar to the ship I stole from the admiral all those years ago. I move swiftly, ducking between trees, pausing and then moving forward until I have a good vantage point. Then I wait. Soon, a tall figure walks down the gangway, turning so their back faces me. They remain standing next to the ship, typing at something on a tablet. The posture and build of the person is clearly male, and he has long, black hair, dreaded back and tied at the nape of his neck. I duck behind a tree, pressing my back into the bark, taking deep, quiet breaths. My hands tremble slightly as I look down at the gun.

Am I about to kill another man? To keep Maven safe, there’s no doubt in my mind that I will do anything, so if it has to be done, then so be it. I won’t lose her, not like this. I peer around the tree again, and the man walks to the other side of the ship, giving me a window to come up behind him.

“Stay,” I whisper to Shy, and she goes still.

The soft ground absorbs the impact of my boots as I sprint until I reach the ship, sliding around the hull until I turn the corner. The stranger still has his back to me. I move quickly and silently.

The moment he senses me, he reaches for the gun holstered at his waist, but it is too late as I set the barrel of the gun on the back of the stranger’s head.

“Hands up and turn around . . . slowly,” I say in English, assuming he’ll understand, especially if he’s looking for me. The stranger keeps his hands up as I back away a couple of feet, both my hands on the raised gun. The man begins to turn slowly as I instructed, and the person that I behold as he comes to face me fully almost makes me drop to my knees in utter shock.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

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