Page 36 of Silent Vendetta (Vendetta Duet)

His cerulean eyes seared into mine, making my breath hitch.

I hated how my body responded to him, how my pulse quickened at his proximity. I hated how desperately, how completely, I was drawn to him. Every stolen glance, every lingering touch sent ripples of confusion and longing through me. He was a storm of passion and danger, and I, like a sailor entranced by the song of a siren, was willingly walking into his eye.

Damn him for being the magnet that pulled at my every fiber, and damn me for my undeniable attraction. Because maybe, just maybe, part of me craved the chaos. Perhaps, in some twisted sense, I didn’t want it any other way.

As he closed the distance between us, he allowed his gaze to sweep over my body once more.

I crossed one arm over my chest and held my hand in front of my sex, shrinking in on myself. It was too intimate a moment to share with him.

But—never breaking my gaze—he reached out and slowly, gently, pulled my arms away from my frame.

You would think he’d find me repulsive, covered in bruises and injuries sustained from the car accident and beating, but beneath his flare of anger over what had been done to me, his eyes softened, tracing each mark as if they were stardust and not scars. To him, every blemish seemed to only enhance my beauty, as if each wound were a testament to a strength he admired. There was a reverence in his stare, an unspoken promise that he would always see me, not for the imperfections, but for the radiant—and in his mind, perfect—soul beneath.

Part of me wanted him to see how beaten and battered I was because the outside was a mere reflection of how I felt on the inside. And I wanted him to reallyseeme. I squared my shoulders, wanting him to realize that despite it all, I wasn’t broken.

And I would go down fighting.

Hunter brought his hand up to my face, making me shudder at the touch of his knuckles running along my jaw.

It shocked me that earlier tonight, when we had been with the police, his touch had felt like a corpse, because right now, it was a wonderful sparkler on the Fourth of July, crackling against my skin.

Maybe my earlier reaction tonight was because of my shock and betrayal over Hunter being the Windy City Vigilante. And maybe now I could see, at least part of him, was still the man I’d fallen in love with.

“I should keep you here forever, Little Leopard.” His voice was low with a grainy growl that reminded me of his Vigilante voice. “I wonder,” he said, allowing his fingers to drag down my throat, “if part of you still feels something when I touch you.”

I do.I didn’t understand it, didn’t want it, but the chemistry between us, the pull he had on me, was still strong—very much yearning for him. All our breathless moments threatened to consume my logic in its wildfire, begging me to surrender to this desire rather than to reason.

“I don’t,” I lied.

But when the crack in my tone gave my deception away, Hunter’s lips tugged up.

Maybe my hormones were a survival skill. Feel turned on, want Hunter to throw me down on the bed, and abracadabra, I couldn’t fixate on the horrors that had happened tonight.

“You’re still attracted to me,” he accused, looking at my peaked nipples as evidence.

“Physical attraction means nothing.”

But his face sparkled with victory; it meant everything to him.

His knuckles grazed my collarbone, then my breast, and though my skin came alive with his touch and begged for more, begged for me to submit, I forced myself to remember who he really was.

And what he’d just done in that basement.

I slapped his hand away, but he caught my wrist and held me there, towering over me while the gentle touch of warm steam enveloped us, causing tiny droplets to form on my bare skin. The steam snaked its way to the mirror, coating it in fog and amplifying the fragrant blend of lavender from the air freshener with his intoxicating sandalwood scent, making every sensation more pronounced.

I tried to shove aside the warped feelings of gratitude that he’d done it all for me. That standing in front of me was a man who had literally killed for me, because that wasn’t a healthy thought. A healthy relationship was finding a man who never broke the law, without an alter ego who took justice into his own hands.

This man was lethal, and there was no guarantee someone as dangerous as him wouldn’t turn on me.

I didn’t want to feel excited around him like this, and I didn’t want to imagine, even for a moment, what it might be like to surrender to his darkness.

He tightened his hold on my wrist and pulled me against him, my breasts swelling against his chest as he stared down at me.

I gulped, trying to shove down this inappropriate arousal.

It was like Hunter had been more reserved before, but now that I’d seen him—all of him—he was letting his inhibitions go.

“You can’t have me,” I uttered, hoping my voice wouldn’t give away my growing attraction to him.

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