Page 21 of Treachery

Nadia rolled her eyes, snorting. “Right, because you didn’t do that before, you didn’t make yourself at home and rifle through my desk, or tear through my closet yesterday?—”

He cursed, loud and long, and she sat there, stunned, unblinking. That was not the reaction she expected.

“Nadia, I was not inside your house yesterday,” Locust said, his voice strangely flat yet tense.

Unwilling to believe what she was hearing…and the implications, she said, “Then one of the other brothers?—”

“No, baby, no other brother would come into your place; Frost handed down the order to leave you alone. If you believe someone trashed your closet…it wasn’t one of us.”

God…suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. She could hear the honesty in his voice, the tension…and the fear. He was afraid.

“J-James…” she murmured his real name, her gaze immediately pinned to the closed closet door, behind which was a mess of discarded clothes, turned over shoe boxes, and emptied drawers. Someone had thoroughly tipped her closet, obviously looking for something. “If-if it wasn’t the Unchained….” God, how was this her life right now?

“Nadia, baby, listen to me, I’m on my way. Lock yourself in the bathroom. Don’t open it for any reason; I’ll knock and tell you it’s me.”

Her front door was locked, though, at least she’d locked it the night before, and she’d changed the locks, so he didn’t have a key—but who the hell knew now! “How will you get in?”

Locust chuckled darkly, humorlessly. “You can’t keep me out, baby.” The rumble and rage of a Harley starting growled throughthe phone. “Get to the bathroom. Sit tight and wait for me. I’m coming.” With that, he hung up, not being able to hold his cell while he was riding his bike.

With shaking hands, she hurried to the bathroom, slipped inside, then shut and locked the door behind her. But that wasn’t enough for her; she stepped into the bathtub, pulled the flower bedecked shower curtain shut, then curled into a ball in the furthest corner from the door.

Her chest aching from shallow breaths, her skin clammy from cold sweats, her head throbbing from the rise in blood pressure—someone had been in her house, someone she didn’t know, and they’d touched her personal, private things. Yes, Locust had done the same thing, but she’d let him in, she’d trusted him, and before his treachery was revealed, she’d welcomed into her home, her space, her body, her heart. But this other person…they’d slashed at her trust and sense of security so viciously, she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to sleep another night in the house she loved so much.

She didn’t know how long she was curled up there before she heard the sound of her front door crashing open, and then the heavy footsteps approaching the bedroom door. She held her breath, her body trembling, her heart racing—was it Locust, or was it the person who’d trashed her closet, come back to trash her, too?

The heavy footsteps carried into her bedroom, and she bit back a whimper.

A solid knock against the bathroom door made her jerk and squeak.

“Baby, it’s me. Come open the door now, you’re safe.” It was Locust, his deep voice both soothing her and making her tingly.

Goddamn hormones, wanting to jump the filthy biker with the body of a god and the morality of a sewer rat.

Letting out the breath she’d been holding, she unfolded herself, groaning at the ache in her joints and muscles from being bent in one position for too long, then stepped out of the tub. Pressing a hand against her still racing heart, she used her other hand to unlock and then pull open the door.

Locust was standing on the other side, his hands fisted at his sides, his navy blue eyes devouring her face.

He stepped up to her and cupped her face in his hands. They wereshaking. Locust’s. Hands. Were.Shaking.

Shocked at his response, she gasped—and he took immediate advantage.

Between one moment and the next, his head descended, his mouth claimed, and his tongue invaded. Against the ravenous, intense, and mind-bending onslaught, she could only groan, the pleasure too good, the taste of him too delicious—she’d missed this…missed him. Was this what it was like to come home?

Using his hands, he tilted her head, gaining better access with which he plundered, overwhelmed, overpowered. She was truly and completely under his spell. Her body hummed, her thoughts blurred, and her heart pounded. Lips were hard yet soft, giving yet taking, so hot, so wet, so needful. He forced her mouth open, thrusting his tongue inside in long, languid strokes, then he slowed the kiss, nibbling her bottom lip, then pressing another soft kiss there.

This…this felt too real. This…this wasn’t fake.

But what does that mean?

Pulling back, they both dragged in deep breaths, her heart racing, her body thrumming. Plastered against his chest, she stilled at what she was feeling; his breathing was ragged, as though he were trying to inhale through water. As though he couldn’t catch his breath, or he couldn’t drag in enough air to fill his lungs.

Pinching her lips and her eyes closed, she despaired; how could she let him kiss her like that? Oh, yeah, she’d been terrified, saw him standing in the doorway looking like a biker snack, and her body took over, her brain blanking out to let her cooch lead the way.

But, if she were honest, she’d admit that the look on his face had donesomethingto her.

He reallyactuallyhad beenafraid…for her, butwhy? She was nothing but an assignment, a mission to him. It wasn’t like Frost could order him to act afraid, to act like he’d run a million miles before he got there. Right?

“Fuck, baby,” he rasped, leaning down to press his forehead against hers, his eyes closing as if in prayer. “When you said someone had been in your closet….” He moved his head from side to side, still connected to hers. His breath hitched as he opened his eyes. “I’d never been so fucking scared in my life.”

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