Page 61 of Brutal Ice

“Royal?”

He cleared his throat. Sawed a hand over the carefully trimmed beard on his jaw. “As I was saying, this is the part where you can change your mind. Where you don’t actually have to go into the night and hunt with me as I stop a sadistic killer. No need for you to get your hands all bloody. I can do the dirty work for you.”

Her chin notched up. “You think I’ll be too scared, don’t you?”

“Are you scared?”

“Yes.”

He waited.

“But I want to do this.” More than that, she needed to do it.

“He’s still watching you. You get that, don’t you? The first night you left your brother’s house, the first night he thought you were unprotected, he followed you home. He threw the big landscape rock through your window because he was pissed as hell. He thought you’d be alone. Only I was in his way.” He advanced toward her. “FYI, I intend to keep being in the bastard’s way.”

She bumped into the desk.

His hands reached out and curled around the desk behind her. “I’ll need you to be bait, Violet. You really going to be okay with that? With me dangling you in front of him like some sweet treat that he can’t resist?”

Her chest ached, but she said, “If it stops him, if we stop him, I can be okay with just about anything.” What she couldn’t be okay with? The monster just remaining free. With living the rest of her life in fear because she was afraid he’d come for her again.

Royal’s gaze searched hers. What did he see when he looked into her eyes? Fear? Probably. When she looked into his eyes, she saw…

Darkness. Strength. Desire.

The hazel swirled. Brown. Gold. Green.

His right hand rose and curled under her chin. “I bet you’ve never hurt anyone in your whole freaking life, have you, Violet?”

“I’ve tried not to.”

“If it came down to a choice—your life or the prick who took you, what would you do?”

She didn’t look away from his eyes. “I’d hurt him.”

One eyebrow arched.

“I would kill him if it meant I escaped and he didn’t,” she whispered.

“Such bloodthirsty words,” he murmured. “Careful, Violet, or I will think?—”

“And if he turned on you…if something happened and you stopped being the hunter and became the prey, I would hurt him before I ever let him do anything to you.”

His eyelids flickered. Then he let go of her chin and reached for her hand. His head tilted as he looked down at her hand. Automatically, she glanced down, too. His hand was so much bigger than her own. Stronger. Rougher.

“You’re so fragile. Far too breakable.”

“I am stronger than I look.” She was. She trained for at least eight hours most days. Sure, she wasn’t exactly the weight-lifting champion of the world. A dancer’s strength was different. But different held its own power. “I’m not going to break.”

“It would be a shame if you did.” His fingers stroked along the inside of her palm. “I would be quite angry if something or someone caused you to break.”

A shiver darted over her.

“Because I’ve discovered that I quite like you.” He let her go. Retreated behind the desk.

She exhaled on the breath that she’d been holding. I quite like you. She didn’t confess that she quite liked him, too. Liked. Ha. What a lie. Her feelings were far more twisted and complex than a mere like. Her hand—the hand that could still feel his touch—gestured vaguely. “Wh-what’s the deal with all the computers? Is this the part where you tell me that you’re a closet hacker?”

“Yes.” No humor. Just a statement.

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