Page 28 of Devil's Thirst

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but that’s not how this works. You chose me. I chose you. We haven’t fucked, but that’s only because I want you to get to know me first. We can skip ahead, though, if it means you start to understand that you’remine.”

CHAPTER 15

AMELIE

I whirlaround to face him, too stunned to consider how close we’ll be. If I wasn’t already off-balance, falling into his stare has me disoriented.

My thoughts struggle to catch up from intruders to questions from cops, now Isaac claiming we’re … what? Boyfriend and girlfriend? It sounds absurd.

“We haven’t even gone on a date.”

I could have said a million different things to contradict Isaac’s assertion that I’m his, and somehowthatis what I lead with. Thank God I’m not a courtroom lawyer. My clients would be royally screwed. But it’s not entirely my fault. Isaac’s lips are so dang close, I can’t stop staring at them, imagining what it would be like to feel them pressed against mine.

This is one thousand percent not how a healthy relationship begins. I may not have had great role models in that arena, but I’ve spent a lot of time daydreaming about my happily ever after, and not once did it unfold like this. I want healthy and nurturing—something based on friendship and not merely physical desire. But the girl in me who only ever wanted her family to want her is completely drunk on the idea that this man is desperate to have me.

Would it be so bad to test the waters?

Maybe! He could be dangerous!

The entire freaking world is dangerous for me, and so far, he’s the one person who’s tried to help.

“We’ll get there, but in the meantime, I can’t be worrying about whether you’re letting another man touch you.” His hand cups the back of my neck, bringing his lips just shy of touching my own. He’s so close I can smell the mint on his breath. “There are only two things I’ll ask of you—loyalty and honesty—because that lays a foundation of trust. Everything else is negotiable. Set aside whatever worries you have and answer this. While we sort this out, can you be loyal and honest?”

His request is so earnest—so honorable—how can I say no?

My lungs have quit working what feels like ages ago. All I can do is command myself not to overthink this and nod.

“Now, I’m going to ask you one more question. I expect the truth, Amelie. Why didn’t you tell the cop you have a stalker?”

The question is so unexpected that my eyes widen and my mind blanks.

“Who says I didn’t?”

His hand at the back of my neck tightens a smidge in warning. “Thetruth, Amelie. You give me the truth, or I call them back and tell them everything.”

Crap! How is this man so freaking observant?

He’s worse than a dog with a bone—repeatedly poking in the one area I need him to ignore. There’s no time to fabricate an explanation. Besides, I’ve barely slept, and his proximity has scrambled what little brain power I might have at this late hour.

Who knows, maybe the truth is exactly what I need. Hearing how screwed up my life has been would scare off most anyone. I keep that stuff to myself for more than one reason. Primarily because I prefer not to dwell on the past. But a close second is my fear of people’s reactions. In this case, however, giving Isaaca reason to reconsider his interest in me would be a good thing. If I give him a peek at what’s behind the curtain, and he decides to retreat, then I can strike him off my worry list.

And if he doesn’t run?

I’m not sure, but I think … I think I might like to find out.

I nod again, this time to myself, then take the first big risk I’ve taken in four years.

“I know it sounds crazy, but there was a secret group here in the city called The Society,” I begin in nearly a whisper. “They were the very worst sort of people you could imagine—power and wealth and horrible depravity. My parents were involved in the group. They were members before they died. Since then, the group has been dismantled, but I prefer to stay off the radar, just in case.” Dismantled but not gone. I know of at least one man who still carries their torch.

“And you think talking with the police could bring you to their attention?” He doesn’t even question the veracity of my seemingly outlandish claim, which, in a deplorable show of hypocrisy, leaves me wondering about his sanity.

“They don’t even exist anymore. It’s a precaution more than anything.” My attempt to gloss over the situation goes unnoticed.

“Why would you even ping their radar? What interest would they have in you?” His hands clamp around my upper arms while his penetrating stare attempts to dissect me piece by piece.

In response, I press my hands against his chest to give myself some breathing room, but he refuses to budge.

“I’m paranoid, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

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