Page 70 of Wild Angel

But I keep repeating to myself that this is for her own good.

I’m sure at some point, it will ring true.

I spit, rinse my toothbrush, drag fingers through my hair. I’m wearing my usual—a white T-shirt, dark jeans, boots. My jacket is over the chair in my bedroom, my cell phone still inside. I go to my jacket, dig in the pocket. But it’s not my phone I retrieve.

Phoebe’s crucifix feels lighter than I remember. Like air, despite the blood still encrusted on it. I twist it in my hand, scratch at the red stains with my thumbnail.

The blood at the scene wasn’t Phoebe and Athena’s. There was too much of it, for two young girls. Which means it must be animal blood—pig, most likely.

I wanted to give this back to Nyx this morning—it should be with her, not me—but now I’m not sure if it might trigger something.

I need her calm.

And while I was watching her sleep last night, I realized anything could set her off. Even if I tried preparing her for what was coming, it might not work.

She’s as unpredictable as a Colombian bureaucrat. I’d rather she didn’t have time to plan anythingrebellious.

I slip the crucifix back into my pocket and stare at the bathroom door I left open. I’m getting too warm to put on my jacket, plus I don’t plan on leaving the villa anytime soon.

There’s one thing I need to know. Something that’s been gnawing at me for a while, since that first day I met her. It shouldn’t matter—it can’t be significant enough to make me change my mind…but I need to know.

Nyx is stepping out of the shower when I go back inside. She’s the first woman I’ve ever known to take such short showers. The only time she’s in there for longer than a minute is when she’s shaving or washing her hair.

She looks up when I enter and gives me a coy little smile that makes my dick twitch behind my jeans.

I grab her towel, wrench it off her.

She lets out a small sound of surprise and then recovers smoothly as she loosens her hair.

“Well? What’ll it be today? Another hand job?” she twists around, sticks out her perfectly plump ass. “Some morespanking?” Her tongue caresses the word.

I almost take her up on the offer, but I manage to control myself. I grab her waist, turn her around so she’s facing me again.

Running my thumb over the scar on her lower belly, I lock onto her eyes. “Tell me.”

Her eyelashes flutter, then she drops her gaze. “I fell out of a—”

“The truth.”

Her lips seal, pucker. She glances up at me through her lashes. “Car accident. I was—”

The shower rattles when I shove her against the glass door. “Thefuckingtruth, Nyx.”

“You’re hurting me,” she whispers.

“That’s the point.”

Her jaw bunches as she looks away. I grab her throat, fist her hair, force her to look back at me.

“Who hurt you?”

She laughs at me then. Dry, cynical barks containing zero mirth. Her eyes glitter dangerously, and for a second I consider backing down.

Just a second, though.

Because now I’m beyond curious. Now I’m fuckingobsessed.

“What does it matter?”

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