Page 19 of Awakened by Sin

“She’s tired,” Marcus said shortly. “I’ll take care of her.”

“Take care?” Carmen choked.

“Any word?” Marcus asked.

“No, sir.”

“Inform us the minute you hear something. You’re dismissed,” Marcus said.

“Are you sure?” the guard asked with a wary glance in her direction.

“I’m armed,” Marcus said, and they nodded and left.

“You’re armed?” Carmen asked warily.

Marcus gave her a very steady look. “Of course.”

He didn’t seem the type to know what to do with a gun, but looks were deceiving. He brushed his finger down Nora’s cheek as he rocked her. The baby sighed contentedly against him.

Carmen felt bereft and a little crazed without Nora’s solid weight against her. She had been welded to the baby for almost two days, and now, someone was taking over. “Why are you here, Marcus?”

Green eyes speared her. “No one should be alone on a night like this.”

Her overstimulated senses fixated on the splash of red the handkerchief made against his suit. She took a breath to clear her head. His cologne drifted in the air between them, tantalizing and taunting her. It roused memories of their bathroom hookup. Her nails sank into her palms as a flash of heat sparked in her belly. She wasn’t prepared for her womb to clench with need or the sudden slickness between her legs. What. The. Fuck.

“Carmen?”

She shook her head wildly. No. No. What was wrong with her? Her body went from unbearably cold to so heated she wanted to shave her head. She shuddered and paced away, trying to get herself under control.

“Carmen, are you okay?”

She was high on adrenaline, exhaustion, and fear. Her mind skittered in a dozen different directions. A geyser of emotions roiled in her chest, fighting to be freed. She adjusted her slouchy sweater and mopped up the lingering wet on her face with the large, droopy sleeve.

Everything jumped out at her—the color of a stuffed pink elephant on Nora’s drawers, the prisms of light from the chandelier and the constant flow of air conditioning that felt like sandpaper against her sensitive skin. She tried to smother the urge to beat her fists against the wall or break something. Rage and fear collided in her chest. She wanted to throw her head back and scream at the top of her lungs. She scrubbed her hands over her face instead and tried to get herself together. She was overtired, overstressed and just … over it. It had been almost three years of pain, horror, and death. This had to end. She couldn’t take much more.

“Carmen.”

She whirled to find Marcus standing a few feet away, arms empty. Her heart leaped into her throat before she noticed the tiny mound stretched out in the crib.

“You’re shaking,” he observed.

She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to hold everything in. “You can go now.”

“Save it. If being held at gunpoint didn’t work, you should know I’m not going anywhere until we hear the verdict.”

Her stomach lurched. “Verdict?”

“After Blade’s call, I couldn’t focus. I figured you were in worst shape than me, so I came by to check on you.”

And she almost killed him. Even as shame crawled up her throat, she scowled at him. “I’m fine.”

“You aren’t.”

She opened her mouth to make another heated denial.

“How could you be when Lyla’s life is at stake?”

Her argument died in her throat. Dimly, she registered that she was in an oversized sweater, yoga pants, and didn’t have on a lick of makeup. She was emotionally and physically stripped of all her normal shields and eons away from the vixen he encountered in the club bathroom. It shouldn’t matter to her that she probably looked like shit since he wanted nothing to do with her after that disaster. She didn’t blame him. She was a fucking mess.

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