“Erin. Get in the car.”
“I had to?—”
His eyes narrow. “Now.”
I slide into the passenger seat without saying a word. He slams the door shut. Moments later, he’s in the driver’s seat, livid, and the tension in the air is almost unbearable.
“I can explain,” I whisper.
Lucian doesn’t speak. Doesn’t look at me.
But his hand finds mine in the dark.
And squeezes.
Hard. With a promise behind it.
Then it’s back on the wheel, his knuckles white as he grips it so tightly he clinches his fists, driving us back to the moors.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Lucian
The rain pounds against the windshield as if it’s trying to get in—like it wants to drown out the silence. Erin hasn’t said a word since I shoved her into this car. Not a single word.
Good.
Because if she opens her mouth right now, I might lose it.
We’re both soaked. And she’s not wearing a coat. Of course. If she’s going to go against everything I’ve told her, why not start with the coat?
She sits beside me, sexy and wet, skin flushed, hair stuck to her neck, dress clinging to every curve. My fists are still clenched on the wheel. My jaw’s tight enough to snap.
That dress.
She walked into a den of predators wearing that.
Without me.
Without fucking telling me.
Bayne told me. And now I have to kill him twice. Once for Gregory. Once for her.
We pass the vast expanse of the moor. Almost there. I keep my eyes on the road, headlights slicing through mist. My voice is low when I finally speak.
“You have a death wish?”
She flinches.
“Lucian—”
“No. Don’t even try.”
I throw the car into park, shove the door open, and slam it behind me. The wind rips at my coat as I stalk around to her side. She’s already out of the car.
I rip off my now somewhat dry coat, throwing it over her shoulders even though she’s already soaked. She stops, holding my arm so she can slip off her shoes, then starts stomping off barefoot, mud splashing up her sexy bare legs.
“What the hell? You want to get tetanus, too?” I bark.