Page 25 of Lovely Violent Things

Her rioting emotions quicken her pulse, her uncertainty creased between her eyebrows. I want to smooth the divot away. I want to claim the breaths escaping her parted mouth, to taste the burn of her shattered restraint.

Any semblance of control I maintained was crushed the moment I felt her body against mine, and I brazenly slide my hand higher and touch the sigil I carved in her inner thigh. Even through her jeans, through the blood-stained bandage muting my senses, I feel the mark sealing us together.

There’s no escape for me.

I need her to remember.

Her eyes close half-mast as I graze my thumb over her thigh. “Why did you stop wearing it?”

The pressure of her hand leaves mine as she presses her fingertips to the bare notch beneath her throat. My gaze stays locked on hers, willing the truth from her lips.

She swallows, then: “I can’t…” A chime from her phone interrupts the moment. “Put me down,” she demands.

Instead, with a groan, I shift her body in my arms, forcing her legs to wrap around my hips. Then I seat her ass on the ladder rung. Reaching around her, I fetch the device from her back pocket and bring it between us.

She reaches for the phone, but I tighten my grip on it. “First, one truthful answer.”

“This isn’t a game.”

“I was never under any delusion that it was.”

She glares at me before she glances at the phone. “When we…were together,” she says, her voice a throaty rasp. “I can’t pretend it wasn’t real. Wearing Jackson’s diamond would feel like a betrayal.”

“To him, or to me?”

Her eyes spear me as the phone continues to ring. “I gave you my answer.”

I study her delicate features, feeling the misery beneath her words. I place the phone in her hand.

She glances at the screen, then answers the call. “Devyn, what’s going on?”

Her eyes drill into mine as I push in between her thighs, unashamed as I’m gifted with the slightest hitch in her voice. A smile slants my mouth.

I catch pieces of Devyn’s call in the still silence of the library. A few distinct words: Evidence. Crime scene. Questioning.

“No, no one else,” Halen says.

My hackles raise as Halen places her hand to my chest. I’m not sure if she’s attempting to push me away or ground herself to me for comfort.

“Okay,” Halen says, nodding, her gaze darting to the doors of the library. “I’m on my way.”

As she ends the call, I anchor my hands to her waist. “What did you find at the scene?”

Anxiously, she fixes her hair, tucking the loose strands into the elastic. “Let me go, Kallum.” When I don’t, she expels a lengthy breath. “Now—”

I clasp her hips and lift her off the ladder, setting her feet to the hardwood. I release her, but only so I can angle her face up toward mine. In silent petition, I demand an answer.

Halen stares up at me with intense liquid eyes. “My DNA turned up at the Harbinger crime scene,” she says. “I’m being brought in for questioning.”

She breaks my hold and shoves past me, ripping her gloves off and tossing them to the floor.

“Questioning for what? Halen, stop—”

“You win, Kallum. Revenge is all yours.”

6

STORM IN HIS EYES

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