Page 20 of The Night Runs Red

I couldn’t help but chuckle, wondering what he was doing on the other side of this barrier between us. “What?” I gasped in fake shock. “You could’ve fooled me.”

I slid down the door, placing my back against the wood. This was a peek at yet another avenue of what made Rion D’Arcy the enigmatic alphahole he was. And like an eager explorer, I wanted to traverse each of those paths and study him. What made him tick? What pushed him to get out of bed in the morning? Who and what did he love with his whole being? What quality would enable someone to slip past his walls?

Would I be okay never possessing it?

Because I was right; there was more to this man than met the eye. I could only imagine the number of people he allowed to see him like this was minute, and now I was among their company. Frankly, the drastic change in disposition gave me whiplash. Still, I selfishly wanted to know everything about him.

“You know, you are not innocent in this either,” he sighed. “I do not feel like I asked much of you, Calia. I asked you to respect my privacy. You snooped where I told you not to snoop. You forced my hand—”

I cut him off before he could say anything further. “Nuh-uh. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to turn this around on me because you have no self-control regarding your anger.” I ran my fingers through my tangled hair before letting them fall onto my lap. “I just want to know more about the man I married, Rion. Is that so bad?”

He was silent for a long moment. So long, I’d thought he’d fallen asleep or left. “Yes. It is,” he whispered. The door muffled his words, but I felt them all the same.

“And why is that?”

Rion blew out a breath. “Which excuse would you like me to use, Calia? That I am not a good man? That I am incapable of love or affection? Or I could give you my personal favorite, that I will lead to your ruination. Take your pick because all are true.”

My hands gripped the underside of my thighs, picking at my skin as our conversation drifted into dangerous territory. “I don’t think that’s true.”

He scoffed. “Then you are a bigger idiot than I took you for, love.”

“Hey! Aren’t you supposed to be apologizing? You’re doing a shit job so far.”

He laughed, a real one, and my stupid little heart flipped. It was traitorous, and I hated how I wanted to hear it again. “That’s right, that’s right.” Rion cleared his throat before groaning. “I should have taken Jasper up on his offer to write down what I should say. To be fair, he also told me not to get drunk—or rather, any more than I was—but here I am.”

“I’d rather hear what you have to say, anyway. I don’t want to hear Jasper’s words; I want yours.”

“You will regret that when I can come up with nothing better than ‘I’m sorry,’” he mumbled. “Because that is all I have, Calia. And I do not even know if I am truly sorry for what happened, other than my poor reaction. I should not have—” His voice grew tight before he stopped and blew a sharp breath. My chest ached knowing how difficult this was to him, hearing the apology he truly wanted to give in the way he spoke. “I should never have put my hands on you. I was serious when I told you I was a private man, and that will not ever change, but I should never have taken my anger out on you. And for that, I truly am sorry because you deserve so much more.”

I let everything he said sink in, warring between frustration that we were in this situation and exhilaration because this was a side I never thought I’d see. And for once, I didn’t question his motives or truth, because I could hear it in his voice. Men like Rion D’Arcy didn’t apologize. He’d admitted that much himself.

And yet, he did for you…

But why? Was it the lowered inhibitions driven by alcohol-infused guilt? Or had his guilt driven him to drink?

“I knew I should not have come here. It was foolish to hope that you would accept my apology.” I was on my feet before he could heave himself off the ground, yanking open the door and reaching for his hand.

“I accept your apology,” I said breathlessly, stopping him from walking away.

Rion stared down at me with wild eyes, his nostrils widening as he scanned down my body. His shirt was untucked and ruffled. The top buttons were undone, displaying the slightest smattering of hair across his pecs. I could make out the faint outline of his scar running deep through his skin, and I fought my desire to trace the old injury with my fingers. The sharp tang of alcohol clung to his skin, filling the space between us with the evidence of how much liquid courage he’d needed to show up at my door.

He stepped toward me, his hand lingering in mine until we were chest to chest. I tilted my head to get a better look at him. He leaned in, teasing me with his slow approach as I licked my lips, drawing attention to my mouth. His hand came up, tilting my chin further until my neck was fully elongated.

“What’re you doing?” I whispered. Every thought eddied from my mind, and all I could focus on was the intense heat burning in his gaze and the tender ache between my thighs. He was powerful, strong, brash, and rude, but something tender lived inside, begging to be freed.

He leaned in further until I felt his breath fan out across my face. “I do not know,” he confessed. “But I want to find out.”

With a thundering heart, his lips touched mine, and I exploded with need. I was on fire, and the only thing that could save me was this kiss—this man. And if it didn’t, I would gladly allow my soul to smolder as I burned for him. It was nothing and everything all at once.

My hands slid around his neck, pulling his body even closer to mine. His palm landed on my lower back, traveling down to my ass and gripping it tightly. Rion groaned into my mouth as he slid his fingertips beneath the silk fabric.

“Fuck, Calia. This is not…we should not…”

But his feeble protests didn’t correlate with the frantic way he tugged me closer. He lifted me and I wrapped my legs around his waist, feeling the inescapable sign of his arousal. Fuck. He was impossibly hard and thick. A thousand filthy scenarios flitted through my mind, each one dirtier than the last. I ground against him, seeking friction and feeling powerful as he gripped me tighter each time I did so.

“I want you,” I said, leaning my head back as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along my neck. “Please, Rion… I—”

Suddenly, he dropped me to the floor and stepped away. His chest was heaving, and I didn’t know what had triggered his flight response until I felt the cool rush of air against the spots he’d just been laving with his tongue. My hair had fallen back, exposing the bruises along my collarbone where his hands had been hours before.

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