Page 27 of Assassin's Heart
Was she? She’d gotten what she wanted—me away from her.
“I just— I don’t understand what’s going on here.”
Who the fuck did? “We’re trying to find your daughter, Leah. That’s it.” The fact that my heart hadn’t got the fucking memo didn’t mean a damn thing.
“No, that’s not it, and you know it.” She walked around to face me. “I mean what’s going on between us. What’s— ” She swallowed hard, her gaze drifting from mine again. “Why were you following me?”
I’d have thought that was obvious. “Apparently I was looking for the first chance to sweep in and force you to fuck me.”
Leah flinched. Her arms crossed over her ribs, gripping tight. “I guess I deserve that.”
I didn’t answer, wouldn’t allow myself to strike out any more than I already had.
“Remi…” Shoving a hand through her hair, Leah raised her eyes to mine. “I am sorry I said that. I know it’s not true.”
I forced my tense muscles to soften, forced my anger away. Tearing each other apart wouldn’t get us anywhere; the only thing that would was clearing away the bullshit.
“You were protecting yourself.”
A strained chuckle left her. “From what?”
“From the fact that you want me.”
A flush of pink crept across her cheeks. “No, I don’t. I—”
I was just enough of a bastard not to let that one pass. “Do you really want me to prove it?” I asked, one eyebrow arched.
The panic that had sparked this whole shit show made a hasty return. Of course she didn’t want me to prove it. Then she might have to admit she lusted after a killer.
That’s what I was, what I would always be in her eyes. I’d accepted it a long time ago. It was only when I looked into those fierce brown eyes that I wanted to be something different.
“Remi, we can’t— I don’t—”
“You don’t?” I stepped forward, something in me relishing Leah’s sudden retreat. “We can’t?” If I was the bad guy, why not own it? Give in? Prove to us both that I wasn’t worthy to touch the princess. To have her.
I might not be worthy, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t fully capable.
“Remi.”
“Jeremiah,” I barked, unable to resist the constant need to hear my full name on her lips. This might be my only opportunity.
“Jer—what?”
“My name,” I said, gravel coming to the fore. “Jeremiah.” Levi, Jeremiah, Elijah. Our heritage was strong, and we carried it with us despite the fact that our parents had been ripped away. “Jeremiah.”
Leah’s step hitched. Her lips curved, forming the first syllable of my name.
“Say it.” I prowled closer. “Say it, Leah.”
Her back hit the wall behind her. She startled, shook her head.
I planted my fists on either side of her shoulders and leaned close. “Why not? Too intimate?” I nuzzled her ear, taking in her scent like the animal I’d become, the animal I kept tightly under control. “What are you afraid I’ll hear if you say my name?”
“I’m not afraid.”
The trembling in her words said otherwise. Something deep inside me purred at the realization.
Christ, what was wrong with me?
