Page 28 of Captive Bride

My heart hurts as I follow her eyes. They eagerly search the side of the room, the place I’ve just left. I know she’s looking for me.

What I wouldn’t give to go to her now.

Love isn’t something I’ve ever been given cause to believe in. The life I’ve lived has always denied, if not outright forbid it.

Looking at her now, though, watching her eyes rake across the churning crowd, I have no other explanation for the way I feel.

I allow myself to look at her a moment more before turning.

As I push through the final remnants of the crowd, I feel determination sweep through me.

This is not the last time I’ll see Isobel Capulet.

I’ll make damn sure of that.

We exit the Capulet building unnoticed, my eyes stalling just a moment too long on a dark corner of the lobby. Her taste finds its way back to my tongue. I can practically feel her wrists in my hand—slender yet somehow full of strength.

It takes a force of will for me to continue out through the door.

The walk to the limo is a rush, rain pelting our exposed faces as we go. It soaks us through in the handful of seconds it takes to arrive.

I half collapse onto the seat the moment I get through the door, the depth of my emotions seeming to have taken a physical toll.

I can’t remember the last time I felt so tired.

A cold glass presses into my limp hand, and I murmur my thanks to Merc before whiskey scorches its way down my throat, relief chasing close behind.

“She’s really something,” Benny says, breaking the silence.

Merc smiles fiendishly. “Sure fucking is. I can see why they keep her locked up.”

His eyes fog over, hinting at thoughts I’d rather he not explore further.

“I kissed her,” I say, half to relieve myself of the burden, half to bring Merc’s mind back to reality.

Four eyes turn quickly to me, just as I knew they would.

“And?” Benny asks.

“It was…different,” I say, unsure of how to explain myself.

Frankly, I’m unsure I would, even if I knew how.

“Different,” Benny parrots. “In a good way?”

I nod unenthusiastically.

“Good,” Benny says, smiling. “You need different. I hate to say it, but what you’re doing really isn’t working.”

I raise an eyebrow in question, and he laughs.

“Did you really think Rosaline was enough to make you happy?” he asks. “Or any of those one-time fucks? Face it, you need different. You need more.”

“Maybe I do.”

“I don’t like it.” Merc says, resolute.

“Oh, come on,” Benny says. “You know I’m right.”

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