Page 36 of The Syndicater (Dark Verse 6)

He pressed a hard kiss to her lips. "You're perfect. You burn so bright you could blind a man,flamma."

"What if others don't see it?"

"I don't want anyone to see it," he stated plainly. "Man has tried to steal fire from the sun since before the dawn of time."

She took that in for a few seconds.

"I just want you to promise me one thing," he told her, his tone serious. "Promise me to take care of yourself. Eat and sleep. Drink your tea. Talk to Dr. Manson at least once every two days. And," he slid a phone into her hand, one similar to one that he kept in his office drawer. "Keep your phone with you all the time. There's a tracker inside. I will watch it."

Oddly enough, that calmed her down. "Okay."

"Oh, little red," he kissed her nose, something warm in his mismatched eyes. "Look at you feeling relieved that the big bad wolf to watch you."

Lyla gazed up at him. "Mybig bad wolf."

Gripping her jaw with one hand, he pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. "Trust me still?"

She nodded.

"Then close your eyes and count to ten."

Lyla complied, her heart in her throat as he kissed her again, as if he couldn't help himself, and she clung to him, opening her mouth, letting him in and tasting him, that lava that lived in him melting, pouring, solidifying into her. They kissed, tongues dancing, sensitive lips becoming more so, but she didn't care.

It was over before she knew it, his mouth leaving her, his hands leaving her, his presence leaving her.

Lyla counted to ten, her heart thudding and sinking, and then opened her eyes.

She was alone.

He had gone back to the shadows.

***

Lyla spent an hour alone. An hour pacing, going to the coffee station, and making herself a cup before putting it down, her nerves too taut, too high-strung to let her stay still. She sank into one of the armchairs, bringing the bag closer. He'd packed and stashed it in his helicopter before they'd left Bayfjord, which told her that he'd been planning to tell her the truth and expected her to leave even before they had started their journey here. He was always going to let her go and meet her past.

She kept a hold of the bag, not opening it, not wanting to, not yet. She would look into it and see what he had packed for her when she was in a new space and needed to feel a sense of belonging.

Quietly, she set the bag to the side and sat on the edge of the plush chair, her legs nervously fumbling and her limbs jittery with anxiety and with anticipation.

The sound of a vehicle coming closer and closer to her location sent her heartrate spiraling, her mind blanking to thought as a flush of adrenaline filled her. It could be a stranger, it could be someone just passing by, or maybe something more dangerous. She immediately discarded the thought. He wouldn't have left her here alone if he wasn't sure of her safety. That only meant it had to be someone purposely heading her way.

She sat with baited breath, her heart pounding in her entire body with one thump after the other, as footsteps approached. Seconds later, the door rattled, someone trying to break in. It got harder and harder for her to try and move, her body freezing in her spot as she watched the door with wide eyes.

The wood splintered and someone shouldered it, and then there was a tall man silhouetted against the frame, a gun in his hand as he entered the space, his face coming into the light.

From the photographs she had seen, she recognized him as Dante Maroni, her brother's friend. Lyla felt a drop of sweat roll down the back of her neck under the collar of the blazer she was wearing—an attire she had put a lot of thought in to try and make the best first impression and appear less like the damaged goods that she was compared to the rest of them.

She watched from the left side of the entrance as Dante Maroni scanned the space, photographs not doing justice to how handsome he was in real. His eyes went over everything with quick precision before finally moving to the side, to her.

She saw his mouth part as shock flitted across his face, his hand with the gun going lax and falling to his side, his dark eyes taking her in. He pressed something in his ear. "Got her."

Lyla gripped the seat on her sides, her arms trembling, coming to terms with the fact that this was a man, right there, who had looked for her and helped her brother for so many years. She tried opening her mouth to say something, greet him and be less odd, but words strangled in her throat, her eyes blurring as she blinked rapidly to clear the mist, not knowing what to say.

He didn't either, but he was more in control of his faculties because his face gentled, and he gave her a smile—a big, warm smile that reached his eyes.

She began to tremble, realizing that it was the first real smile she had received from someone who had known her. It was a good sign, one that made her hope that she might receive some more. She would hoard them and keep them close to her heart, not having been gifted such expressions of joy, not even having witnessed it often. Smiles in her dark world had been cruel. And her lover, he didn't really smile with purity, his own soul as darkened as hers, more tarnished. The smiles he gave to theworld were fake, and the ones he gave her were twitches of his lips tinged with warmth in his eyes. Dante Maroni's smile was megawatt, radiant, having to adjust her eyes to it.

He made no move to get to her but stood at the door like a sentry in a protective stance.

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