Page 31 of Corrupted Union

Once. Twice. Three times.

Eventually, he turned, his stare sharp as a lashing. “The man with the scar is spoken about as though he were the devil incarnate. His name is Damyon, but most call him the Shadow because no one knows anything about him except that he’s Russian. And in case you couldn’t guess, this situation is fuckinglightyearsbeyond bad.”

I stared at the ground,commanding my heart to calm, my breaths to slow, and my fear to release its stranglehold on my thoughts. The situation was so much worse than I imagined—both for Rowan and myself.

Had the men I’d seen outside Wellington’s place worked for Damyon? Surely, Oran hadn’t been stupid enough to do a deal with such a psychopath. Although, that would explain why he might lie about the guns being stolen. He would have known we’d never approve of a deal with the Russian.

I hated that we might be linked to the man, but the fact that he now had Rowan on his radar terrified me. Wellington was bad enough; Damyon amplified the threat ten times over.

“I can’t believe you went back there when Itoldyou to stay away from him.” My fear was so consuming, I knew of no other way to express it besides blistering anger. The emotion strained against the thin membrane of my control, threatening annihilation.

“Stetson and his dad were supposed to be out of the house,” Rowan said softly. “None of this was supposed to happen.”

“No, you weren’tsupposedto step foot back in that house.” My elevated voice echoed the emotions brewing inside me, and I didn’t fully understand them. Rowan was most at risk, not me or my family. I had no obligation to help her. Nothing forced me to continue associating with her. I could cut all ties and hope the angry black cloud over her head didn’t follow me.

The reason I was so upset wasn’t about Damyon or her going back to that house. I was furious because I knew I wouldn’t walk away from her. I couldn’t. Something intangible bound me to her. Something I couldn’t name. She had come to me, of all people, for help. Twice. Some unevolved, half savage part of me had decided she was now mine to protect. Logic had no say in the matter, which was the true source of my anger.

Rowan didn’t yell back at me.

Had she done that, it would have been far more satisfying than the eerily detached way she responded.

“I couldn’t leave her there without knowing help was coming.”

“Couldn’t or didn’t want to?”

Her eyes cut to mine with a spark of fight. “Same damn thing.”

“No. Not unless you have some sort of savior complex.” I moved closer until only a matter of inches separated us. “So what is it, Miss Alexander?” I asked with lethal precision. “Were you thinking of the girl, or just satisfying your own need to play the hero?” It was hypocritical, considering my recent revelation, but my frustration had taken aim at her emotional barriers with the intent of watching them crumble.

Rowan slammed her hands against my chest. “Don’t fucking call me that!”

There we go. I want to see the real Rowan come out to play.

Any other woman would have been coming apart at the seams by now—hell, manorwoman. But not Rowan. She’d mastered the ability to suppress her natural responses. This display of anger was the perfect thread to pull for more. I wanted to unravel each impenetrable layer of armor until I’d exposed every captivating inch of her.

I reached around her and wrapped my fist in her long hair, pulling her body flush with mine. “Is it the name you don’t like, or my implication that you’re acting like a child?”

“Neither,” she snarled.

My eyes narrowed, and I tugged her head back a fraction farther. “It’s the intimacy,” I mused. An unexpected sense of satisfaction swelled in my chest, but I didn’t let it show. “You want there to be some sort of connection between us.”

Be careful what you wish for.

“I never said that.” She tried to backpedal.

“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.”

She tried to school her features, but it was too late. I had her in my web. “Just because I want to fuck you doesn’t mean I want to keep you, Miss Alexander.”

Point. Set. Match.

An aggravated scream bellowed up from deep inside her as she twisted and fought her way out of my grasp. She lunged for a glass bowl on the entry credenza and flung it at me with all her might. I ducked just in time, and it shattered against the door behind me. Before I could react, she already had a small ceramic lamp in her hands.

“You think you can just break into my house, turn my life upside down, then waltz away?” she yelled. Her face was mottled an angry red, eyes growing glassy.

“You turned your life upside down, not me. I told you to stay away from him.”

Show me all your fury, beautiful. Unleash it all.

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