Page 111 of Taming Seraphine

“That’s irrelevant,” I growl.

“Why?”

“If I gave into every intrusive thought or desire, I would never have survived past the age of twenty-five.”

Her eyes harden. “Is it because I killed your friends?”

“Of course not.” I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Then why not?”

“Time is running out. If Samson works out your location and who you’re hiding with, he’ll rally every Capello enforcer and lieutenant to our door. You need to forget about fucking me and focus on finding that bastard before he can pull together a plan of attack.”

Her nostrils flare, and she jerks away.

I use the lull in our conversation to slip out of the bed. “We’re going to train today before our meeting with Paolo Rochas. When I return from the shower, I expect to see you dressed.”

Seraphine remains silent as I head toward the bathroom. I make a mental note to ask Miko if he’s got any more leads on the location of Gabriel. Seraphine needs more than closure. She needs love. Only, that’s something I can’t provide.

FORTY-TWO

SERAPHINE

My blood simmers. I sit up on the bed and glare at the defined muscles between his shoulder blades. How the hell can anyone be so ridiculously controlled? He just admitted to wanting me, yet he’s refusing to do anything about his attraction.

If he wasn’t so alert, I would rush him from behind and grab him by the throat. That’s the frustrating thing about being small. The only way I can defeat a man like Leroi is with the element of surprise, but he’s always ready.

“Hey,” I snap.

Leroi pauses, turns his head, but doesn’t look me in the eye. He’s probably just expanding his peripheral vision or something just as tactical.

“What?” he asks.

“I still don’t understand why I can’t kiss you, but you can kiss me whenever you feel like it, and I don’t get why you can touch me, but I can’t touch you.”

He finally turns around, his lips parting to speak.

“That’s your choice,” I say before he can repeat himself. “But why do you always leave me behind?”

His brow forms a deep V that accentuates the angles of his face. At this time of the morning, sunlight filters through the window, bathing the contours of his muscles in light and shadow. He looks sharp and sculpted, like a living statue, dipped in bronze.

My gaze wanders to the carotid artery protruding on his neck. I want to run my tongue over it to feel the pulse of his blood.

“You need to work on your impulsiveness,” he says.

“What does that mean?”

“Pietro Fiori’s home was within view of the Capello mansion. Our plan was to put a tracker on his car and ambush him once he left Queen’s Gardens, but what did you do?”

My jaw clenches at the memory of rushing out of the car to confront Pietro. It took a second for him to recognize me as the girl he drove to and from missions before he bolted.

“What’s your point?” I snap. “Blame that disguise, not me. Besides, we got what we wanted, didn’t we?”

He advances on me, his nostrils flaring. “You charged at him! There’s no disguise that would have worked to cover your murderous intent.”

I swing my legs off the bed and stand with my fists balled, ready for a fight. Leroi stops so close to me I can feel the heat of his skin. My stomach butterflies flutter. I’ve never seen someone radiate so much power and strength.

He flashes his teeth. “If he had screamed, every Capello sympathizer in the vicinity would have known that the man who killed their employer was close. We would have been surrounded in seconds.”

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