Page 42 of Revenant

Hicks just cocks his head, his eyes patient as he gazes down at me.

My throat tightens when I finally figure out his expression.

Understanding.

He refuses to hurt me again…even if I attack him.

Anger roars through me, and I narrow my eyes on the idiot. “Don’t you ever hesitate to take me out again. You don’t?—”

“No.” The infuriating man lowers his arms, shaking his head as his green eyes focus on me with the deadly stare of a predator. “I didn’t see it right away, not like the others, but you won’t hurt us.”

A bitter laugh escapes me, and tears burn the backs of my eyes. I whirl away from him and yank savagely on the belts. “You don’t know that. You don’t know anything about me. That’s the way you wanted things. Remember?”

“I know everything about you,” he counters, his wickedly low voice a growl that resonates in my chest. “I spent the last few months going over every inch of your life, digging up every fact I could find about you. I even translated and read your family’s diaries.”

I stiffen as he continues to speak, my emotions so brittle, I’m afraid I might shatter. I concentrate on my breathing, concentrate on releasing my hold on the afterlife. As the power wraps around me, coiling tighter and tighter like a snake, I fear I might implode.

I wish I could cover my ears, block out his words, but the damage has already been done. My heart bleeds from wounds I can’t see and I have no clue how to repair. A tear spills down my cheek, only to freeze, then drops and shatters against the table, much like my tattered soul.

“So you know that I’m a monster. Congratulations.” I huff out a harsh breath of annoyance as the buckle I’m working on finally releases, and I throw the belt away from me like I wish I could do with my emotions. “You must feel so much better now that you know you’re right.”

When I turn to grab the buckle across Jaceson’s hips, I nearly slam into Hicks. At over six feet tall, he’s an intimidating man. He grabs my arms before I can recoil, but my need to get away from him is a primal urge. I need to find a place where I can go to lick my wounds and rebuild my shields.

Lifting my head to glare up at him, I barely hold back my flinch at the scowl twisting his features. His grip tightens…then the motherfucker smashes his mouth over mine.

I want to fight.

I tell my brain to shove him away, knee him in the balls.

But the neurons in my brain must have gotten the signals mixed up. Instead, my hands fist in his shirt, and I drag him closer. My tongue meets his stroke for stroke as we battle for dominance, and a moan escapes me at the delicious taste of him. His touch sets my veins on fire, and I can’t seem to get enough.

For the first time in months, I feel alive.

Powerful.

Wanted.

His hands slip up my arms, caressing my shoulders, before skimming along my neck. Then he’s cupping my face, his kiss slowing, turning even more sensual, if possible. I’m practically vibrating with lust, my breasts aching for his touch. Only when I press closer to him does he fucking pull back.

It’s like being blasted with the subzero chill of the Arctic wind.

I try to drag myself away, unable to bear looking at him, but the asshole refuses to release me. If anything, his hold tightens, his hands forcing my head back. Furious at being manipulated once again, I glare at the jackass with every ounce of disdain I can muster, hating that he makes me feel things when I was surviving being numb.

“Release me,” I snarl, barely able to keep my powers from lashing out.

“Never,” he vows, his voice just as vehement. The raw hunger on his face when he peers at me has my insides sizzling with pure lust. When his gaze traces my lips, they tingle with the need to feel his hunger again. He slowly drags his eyes up, finally looking at me directly, and the force of his attention is enough to light up my soul. “You’re ours now. Nothing you do, nothing you say, will ever convince me to let you go. You. Are. Mine.”

I freeze, blinking up at him in confusion, sure I must have misunderstood him, my body tingling with a combination of desire and longing at his bold claim. A yearning that I can’t fight has my anger waning, leaving me a muddled mess I have no hope of untangling. My whole focus growing up was on staying alive.

Stupid fucking emotions.

Who knew they were so hard to control?!

I’m so out of my depth with these men that I’m unsure what to feel.

“But the journals…” I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying for patience. Apparently, my grasp of how men work is faulty. Shouldn’t he hate memorenow? “I don’t understand. If you know everything, then why are you even here?”

For a second, I wonder if he wants to use me like my father but quickly dismiss the idea. If Hicks wants something, he’ll do it himself. He’s not the kind of man who would have others do his dirty work.

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