Page 33 of White Wings of Desire

"He is an exception, just like you." He tilts his head to plant a soft kiss on my cheek. My heart skips a beat, and heat creeps up my neck and spreads across my face.

"An exception like me? What is special about him then?"

"Nothing really, but we've been friends since high school."

"You and your friend from school ended up as killers?" I furrow my eyebrows.

"Yes, both of us were introduced to the world of violence by the same people."

"At what age?" I ask, trying to take advantage of the rare moment when he actually opens up to me.

"At about sixteen."

"That's early."

"People who are born into this life start even earlier than me. When did you get your first job?"

"When I was eighteen."

"That's literally only a two-year difference," he says with a chuckle. "What was your first kill?"

"A regular of the bar where I used to work."

"Why did you take the job?"

"I needed money, and the man was evil," I say, looking at him, his bright green eyes studying me. "Why did you start killing?"

"For the same reason; the person was evil, and I needed easy money."

"Who—"

"I'm not going to answer any questions about who." He cuts me off and leans back in his chair.

"That's not fair. I told you who it was and why." A pang of disappointment swelling in my chest. I want to know more about him and his reasons, hoping to understand him at least a little bit better.

"Yes, you did, but I'm not going to share it with you because it's none of your business. End of discussion," he says, his tone becoming increasingly irritated and angry. "What was the reason you came to my office in the first place?"

I sigh with defeat. "Dinner is ready."

Chapter 27

Noah

I look up from my book at the familiar click of the bathroom door opening. My heart swells at the sight of Evelyn walking out, her damp hair in a loose braid, her small frame drowning in one of my loose black shirts, the neckline too big, slipping off her slim shoulder. I catch a glimpse of the hem of one of my boxer briefs, loose around her thighs, hidden by the shirt. She asked for something black to wear to sleep because she was worried about getting blood on the white clothes. And even though I was against it at first, refusing to look at her in anything but white. I'm glad I gave in. The sight of her wearing my clothes has to be the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

I close my book then sit up straight and watch her as she walks around the bed to her side and climbs onto the mattress. But instead of joining me under the blankets, she sits on her knees and makes herself comfortable in the middle of the bed, facing me.

"Everything okay, Dove?"

"Yes, but I’ve been thinking."

"About what?" I raise my eyebrows and put my book down on the bedside table.

"You know pretty much everything about me, but I hardly know anything about you, aside from the bits and pieces I gathered from being in your home and talking to Mrs. Collins," she explains. "And of course, the few little things you actually told me yourself."

"You want to know more about me?"

"Yes?" she asks, the surprise in her voice making it sound like a question. "If you want me to feel comfortable in this strange situation…we're in. I need more than what you're offering. Right now, you're so focused on love-bombing me in order to get me to forgive you, clearly trying to compensate for trying to kill me and everything else you've done to me. But that's not going to work in the long run." She falls silent for a brief moment. "Or do you really think it will?"

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