Page 57 of Pride
Never in his life had he wanted to tie up someone so badly. Usually the urge was part of the ritual, the intimate connection between rigger and the model, the absolute trust, the safety. But with Alice, he didn’t give a damn about any of it. He just wanted her safe and secure where he could keep her. Where nothing could harm her. And that was fucked up because her spark, her strength, and independence were parts of what he liked about her.
He’d never felt more helpless than the moment she’d pushed him, he twisted and fell, and they’d locked eyes. His body still twitched and shuddered with adrenaline and endorphins. Even his bionic arm twitched, as though the signals from his brain were messed up. He looked at his metal hand and his lip curled in disgust. If he’d not spent two months stubbornly refusing to admit he was handicapped, he could have come up with this solution earlier. He’d have perfected the fine motor skills, and he wouldn’t have run his hand clean through a man’s chest.
He scrubbed his face, still trying to rein in his emotions—the confusion—the events. Alice had barely blinked at the dead body, and he’d not checked to see how the Faithful had faired within his office. If they were dead or alive, he honestly didn’t care. Parker closed his eyes and all he could see was that man’s eyes through his Halloween mask. All he could hear was his prayers. Parker had only meant to push him out of the way, but his arm went straight through him. His instinct to get to his mate was strong.
The worst part was, he didn’t regret it. Parker would plow through a million men just to get to Alice. Even more frightening… she might feel the same way.
Alice had wanted to assassinate his executive, purely because he saw Parker’s face. Was it possible Alice was as obsessive as him? Would they burn so hot together they’d turn to ash?
Would there be anything left?
The shower water faucet turned off and Parker straightened, scrubbing his face. He pulled himself together and opened the fridge to find something for Alice to eat. Plus, he didn’t want to think about the things he overheard—her padding barefoot to his walk-in closet, her gasp as she discovered the entire wardrobe she’d sent back to the retailer was now in there. The sound of rollers as she opened a drawer. Her heartbeat increased as she found lingerie displayed like something in a museum. The thud of her heart grew painfully loud, even from this distance and yet, he schooled his breath so he could hear more.
The drawer slammed shut.
Fabric rasped.
Footsteps thumped carpet, getting louder.
Parker tensed, still looking into the fridge, suddenly aware he was in boxer shorts and nothing else. He reached for a Tupperware container, this morning’s delivery from Alice. When his bionic hand tried to grasp the box, it slipped, and he dropped it. His cheeks heated and he slammed the fridge door shut, deciding to leave the food for later. When he turned, he found Alice staring at him, all fresh faced and wet-haired from the shower.
Brown eyes. Freckles. Pouty lips.
She wore one of his shirts. It barely covered her hips, leaving her thighs naked, a thick scar threaded on one. In her arms were blood-soaked clothes. Part of him became aroused at the sight of her in his shirt, at their scents mingling together. But the other part, the more logical part, was confused that she’d ignored his gifts.
“I should go,” she said, eyes stark.
“Go where?”
“Home.” Her brows lifted as though it was obvious.
“This is your home, Alice.”
She laughed disparagingly. “You can’t just buy me a wardrobe and call it my home, Parker. It doesn’t work like that.”
She tried to get to the door. Dressed like that? So the world could almost see—nope. He blocked her. “Why not?”
“Because it doesn’t.”
She tried to leave again, but it wasn’t because she didn’t want him. He smelled her arousal and heard her pulse spiking. Her eyes had softened on him. So why was she leaving? Was buying her a closet full of clothes really that bad?
Then he scented something else—metal—mixed in with the old blood on her clothes. Her knives must be in there. She avoided his gaze.
This woman never avoided his gaze, well, not since he’d learned her true identity. The real Alice never backed down, and if she wasn’t going to tell him what bothered her, he had to figure it out on his own.
What had Alice been trying to tell him for the past few weeks?
To join forces with her. To trust her. That the executives at his work were trying to oust him. What would he do if someone threatened his mate’s livelihood?
“You’re going after the executive,” he stated.
Wide eyes snapped to his. “What?” She scoffed. “No, I wasn’t.”
“Alice,” he chided. “Don’t lie to me.”
A tinge of pink hit her cheeks. “Okay, fine. But if you’re not going to do it, then I will. Someone has to, and it may as well be the one already going to Hell.”
No. Absolutely not. She already had black stains on her heart from the work she did for the Sisterhood. He wouldneveradd to that tally. Ever.
