Page 37 of Bad Little Bride

I wait for him to argue, to make a move that leaves me feeling foolish for assuming I could speak Enzo and read this right, but I don’t get that. Instead, he reaches across the small space separating us, pulling my hair from where it lays against my back so it’s falling over my shoulders between us. He runs his fingers through the length, styled in loose barrel waves today with the top half pulled back in a rubber band, and two long strips hanging loose in the front like long bangs.

“If you try to run from me, Little Bride…” He stares at the tips, his thumb circling a small piece trapped in his fist.

“I’ll regret it?” I finish for him, reminding him he already issued this particular threat. “News flash, I’m no fool. If I were going to make some sort of plan to run away, I sure as hellwouldn’t be dumb enough to try and set it up while I was within these walls.”

His eyes snap up to mine, my hair still loose in his grip.

“If you run from me,” he repeats, dark hazel eyes intense on mine. “I will find you. I will bring you back, and I will chain you to me.”

“You forget.” I hold his gaze, refusing to move an inch, my elbows locked tight and spine slightly aching from leaning in the way I am, but he doesn’t need to know that. “You’ve already done that.”

“So you understand now.”

“Understand what?”

“That there is no you without me.”

Anger heats my skin, and when I respond, it’s through clenched teeth. “Then that must mean there is noyouwithoutme.”

Slowly, Enzo releases my hair, pushing to his full height, and silently leading my body to do the same. He comes around the edge of the table, stepping right up to me, right into my space, and grips my chin between rough, yet gentle fingers.

“That.” His eyes burn through mine. “Isexactlywhat it means.”

My brows snap together, my brain having expected him to say something of the opposite effect. I open my mouth to say what, I don’t know, but the words die on my lips when the doors to my left open, and he turns to see who’s entered.

I don’t know who it is and I don’t care. The only thing that exists in this moment is this corded neck directly in my line of sight.

Angry, welted skin stares back at me, then, precise lines the color of red fucking velvet curve and curl and I’m barely able to hold in a gasp as shock shudders through me.

I don’t realize I’ve reached out to touch him until a hand latches around my wrist. Based on how Enzo’s head snaps back my way, his eyes narrowing a split second before his hold on me loosens to a ghost of a touch, I would say it was just as much a subconscious move for him as it was me.

My eyes fall back to his neck, and as if he just realized why I reached out at all, his chest expands in my peripheral.

Rather than stepping back or letting go completely, he gently guides my hand closer, until the knuckle of his thumb is pressed to his own collar.

My gaze locks on his, and I swear the green in his disappears, but I can’t hold his stare any longer. My eyes are commanded, forced back to his skin by some invisible force I can’t control, and my insides spin and flip and tighten.

Confusion swirls in my mind.

Longing leaks behind my rib cage.

Neither makes any sense.

Slowly, my fingers edge closer, and when I feel the small slashes, the gasp I held off slips. His skin, it’s molten. Literally hot to the touch.

“What did you do…” I marvel.

“What I’ve wanted to do for a long fucking time.”

Our eyes collide and I swear electricity sparks as if we’re two stripped wires pressed together. It’s unnerving.

He doesn’t explain.

Doesn’t say a word in fact.

Enzo releases me, backs up, and walks right out the door.

Like we weren’t in the middle of a confusing conversation.

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