Page 92 of Wicked Duty
Our legs align, and my hand settles on Callum’s thigh. He drops his own hand over mine. I expect him to interlace our fingers the way he’s been doing all day, but instead, he grazes over the Celtic knotwork on my bracelet.
He runs one long finger over the etchings. “You wear this a lot.”
I hum. “It’s one half of a matching set that belonged to our grandmother.” My voice is barely above a breath. Aren’t you supposed to whisper in churches? “Maya gave it to me when I graduated high school. She has the other half.”
This gorgeous man considers me for a beat before lifting one of his arms and draping it around my shoulders to slide me closer. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” My breath catches in my throat as I drop my eyes back to my lap. “It’s just that I almost lost it, not that long ago.”
“How?”
“During my captivity.” I swallow down bile. “One of the other girls tried to steal it from me. She probably thought it was valuable enough to be bartered for privileges or favor. I doubt it’s worth much money, but it’s priceless to me.”
“What did you do?” His voice softens to signal his understanding of how difficult this topic is for me.
“I fought her for it. And won.” The memory tugs at more moments from my past, all wound together in a vicious web. “The others gave me more respect after that.” When I twist my wrist, the bracelet shifts, gleaming in the candlelight. “Now, this old thing represents more than just my connection to my sister. It’s also a symbol of what I’ve survived.”
Callum’s fingers graze my cheek. He brushes strands of hair behind my ear before his lips appear at my temple.
I lean into him, allowing myself to melt into his embrace. As I rest my head against his shoulder, his heady scent invades mysenses. For a few seconds, perfect happiness suffuses me, and I press a kiss to his neck.
“Careful.” He pats my shoulder. “God’s watching.”
“Thatmakes me want to give Him something to curse about.”
“Troublemaker.”
“Square.” I grin, and to my delight, he grins back before planting a kiss on my mouth. His lips linger against mine long enough that heat begins to invade my deepest, darkest corners.
When he pulls back, we’re both a little starved for oxygen. I’m tempted to grab his hand and drag him out of the church so we can find somewhere to continue this.
Callum strokes a massive palm through my hair. “Why purple anyway?”
My back stiffens. “You don’t like it.”
“I love it.”
I admit, the word “love” distracts me for a few seconds.
His hand slips down the back of my head and comes to rest on the nape of my neck. “But I know it’s not your natural color.” He offers me a warm, open smile.
“Not quite.” I hope he can’t tell how easily he thaws my frozen walls. “I cut it after Nika and Darren rescued me. I had a bad day, followed by a night of terrible nightmares and…” I shake my head in an effort to wipe away the more vivid memories.
Gasping for breath while cruel hands yank my hair like a leash…
“Anyway, I jumped out of bed like I was possessed and chopped most of it off in a fit of terror.” I exhale, calm returning to my mind. “The next day, I found a hairstylist to help me make the best of it. We decided to dye it darker and add purple streaks for an edgier look. Thought it would suit me better. And we weren’t wrong. Social media loved it.”
Callum remains quiet through my explanation, nodding sometimes and occasionally squeezing my shoulder. Maybe it’s because we’re in a house of worship, but he regards me almost…reverently.
I’m drawn right back to that mouth of his.
When I lean in to kiss him again, his lips greet me, tender and yearning.
And when we part, it’s slower, warmer. Affectionate.
He brushes his nose against mine. “Wait here for me?”
I nod, wordless from the tenderness of this moment.
