Page 147 of Endgame
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be him again. But you’ve made me feel again.” Looking at her sad, hopeful eyes, I go on, “And that scares the hell out of me. I’m bad for you, and still, I can’t stop wanting you. Caring about you. I can’t.”
With that off my chest, I return to focus on what’s truly important.
Purple paints the bruise on her swollen cheek. I’m this close to punching a hole through the nearest wall.
“Who was it?”
“Everett.”
“I’m never letting go. Ever.”
“Everett.”
She won’t tell me who it is before she speaks her mind. I see it in her eyes.
“What is it?” I move both hands to her neck. Her pulse. Her breaths. I’m going to feel all of it. “Tell me.”
Her chest expands slowly. Whatever she’s about to say costs her, just like confessing to her cost me.
“It’s been such a shitty week.” Her fingers tremble on my jawline. “Then, when I ran off, you didn’t even zap me. I thought?—”
“Zap you? While you were out there by yourself?” My eyes are drawn to the bruise. To Aurora’s lips. Every delicate feature. She’s strong, but my fucking God, is she fragile. I should’ve been there. “So someone could’ve taken advantage of you? You’re mine. Don’t you get it? No one’s allowed to put their filthy hands on you. I wanted—no, needed—you back. Alive. Well. Not dead or wounded.”
A storm brews inside me. My muscles strain. Adrenaline pulses through me.
The wrath inside me is about to tear through my skin. It’s going to rip my suit to shreds.
Back then, I couldn’t protect my family. I’m stronger today. More powerful than I’ve ever been.
I’ll protect her.
If it’s the last thing I do.
“You really care.” Her delicate fingers slide to my neck. My nerves are so raw that the sensation has my teeth locking. “About me.”
“Of course.” It hasn’t been clear to either of us, though it should have. “You’re mine.”
Aurora twists in my hold, straddling me. My dick is hard. My teeth ache to bite into her tits. Her flesh. Anywhere I can leave my mark.
A force greater than lust restrains the beast inside me. I have to sit here and listen.
I place a hand on her hip. The other is locking her wrists together, derailing her path to undo my pants.
“Stop it. Who did this to you?” I grit out. “Give me a name. Give me the last location you’ve seen them. Something. Anything.”
“Let me show you.”
Instantly, I loosen my hold. Hoping she has a note, a street name.
Her attacker’s license plate.
This isn’t a piece of paper she’s fishing out of her pocket. She raises a crumpled photo between us, shaking.
Time stops.
It’s my sister’s photo.
“Why?” I push the word out, barely. I’m wound too tight to say anything else. “Why?”
