Page 88 of Destroy (Deadly Hearts 2)

ChapterThirty-Eight

Ruby

An hour and a half later, we are buckled up and ready to jet off. I reluctantly handed Cillian his beautiful black knife back out of my handbag, and he accepted it with gratitude, but I have no idea what he did with it. I’m not sure it’s possible to smuggle such a weapon out of the country.

I close my eyes, trying to get a bit of rest before we land, and all hell breaks loose. But Layton crouches down next to me and says, “Can we talk?”

“Sure,” I mutter and stand up. I follow him to the back of the small aircraft and giggle when he opens up the door to the toilet.

“Fancy joining the mile high club?” I ask.

Chuckling, he says, “Not quite what I had in mind, unless you’re game?”

“It’s a bit small, and you are…” I lick my lips and eye him up like a piece of yummy candy. “…soooo big.”

“Jesus,” he mutters. “Don’t make me change my mind, this is supposed to be serious.”

“In the toilet?” I scrunch up my nose, but enter anyway, wondering what the fuck this is about.

He squashes in behind me and shuts the door. “Turn around,” he says, wanting me to face the mirror.

“Err,” I mumble and squeeze myself between his rock-hard body and the small countertop to do as he says. “Now what?” I ask.

He lifts the back of my black long-sleeved tee up and carefully traces his finger over the scars on my back. “Have you looked at these?” he asks softly.

I can’t meet his eyes in the mirror because he is looking down, so I just say, “No.”

“Can I ask why? Do you not like it? Was it wrong of me to want to mark you this way?”

“Christ, no,” I say, turning back around again with difficulty. “It’s not that. It’s just that I'm full of scars now. I didn’t want to acknowledge any of them. I know that this is different, but it happened the day before and I guess I just…I didn’t want to look and have it be another wound to heal. I’m not explaining this right…” I wring my hands desperately at the lie.

“No, I get it,” he says. “I understand completely. I just wondered because you have never mentioned them.”

“Show me now,” I murmur and turn my head over my shoulder to see them in the mirror. I take them in. They are very faint. He barely scratched me, but the letters are there for all to see.

“Do you like it?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say, turning back to him, “and this…” I pick up his arm and trace my fingertip over my name etched into his skin. “This is special.”

“Tell me the real reason you didn’t look,” he says, his eyes boring into mine intensely.

“Dammit. How did you know I was lying?” I ask, seeing no reason to deny it, because he has already called me out on it.

“I know you,” he says simply.

I huff out a breath. “It signifies a commitment,” I mutter. “Not that I don’t want one, I just…I have conditions, and it scares me to think that maybe one or more of you won’t accept them and then I’ll be stuck with this on my back for eternity for no reason, and…”

“Hush,” he says, taking my hands and kissing them to calm my growing hysteria. “What are your conditions? If you don’t tell us, how can we know what to do?”

Good point.

“I love you. I love all of you, but I don’t want to get married. I don’t want to have babies. I’m not that kind of woman. My life is too dangerous and, quite frankly, I like it the way it is.”

“That’s it?” he asks, almost with disbelief. “You have been panicking because you don’t want to get married and have kids?”

My cheeks flame. “Well, ‘panicking’ is such a strong word,” I drawl.

“Sweetheart, let me tell you something. I have never wanted to get married. To be honest, I didn’t think I would ever meet a woman who I would want to share my life with. Now that I have, I realize that I love you with an intensity that consumes me, and I don’t need a marriage to enforce that.” He holds up his arm. “This is all I need to prove my love for you, so you and I know that it will never end.”

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