Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
The very thought has me pushing on his chest, shoving him back, and not gently. He sits in the chair, and I climb right on top of him, straddling him, my hands planting on his shoulders. “He pushed your buttons, Damion. And every time he does, you react fast and hard, and it’s the only time I’ve seen you act rashly. He knows that, too. Wait to do whatever you plan to do. Wait until morning.”
His hands settle warmly on my waist; his touch is possessive and all-consuming. The heat between us is downright combustible, but his lashes sweep low on his cheeks and there is a tic in his jaw. “Damion,” I press, my hand to his jaw, rough stubble against my delicate skin, but it is the only part of me that is delicate right now. He needs to hear me. “Please look at me.”
He presses his hand to mine, curls it into his, easing it between us. His blue eyes are a mix of tenderness and steel that tells me he’s already made up his mind. “We’ve waited a lifetime for this night.”
“We have,” he says, with such certainty in his voice that it’s as if I’ve made his point for him.
“What does that even mean?” I ask, certain that it reaches beyond the obvious.
“We waited too long, Alana. I waited too long to come for you, and the reason I waited was because I submit to him when I submit to no one. That’s what he expects of me. More of the same.” He stands up and takes me with him, his hands on my face, tilting my gaze to his. “You woke me up. This has gone on too long.” His thumb strokes my cheek. “Trust me, baby. I need to take action. I’m clearing that path I promised you I’d clear. So you can marry me.”
His mouth closes over mine, his tongue sliding deep, and I moan with the taste of man and whiskey, a swell of emotion overwhelming me. I want to push away from him and force him to talk to me. I want to drag his hands to my body and distract him from his father’s head games, but I never get the chance to do either.
He tears his mouth from mine, his breath warm and heavy on my lips, mine all but coming out in pants. “I’ll try not to be late. Lock up behind me.” He sets me away from him, and before I can blink, he’s around the chairs and headed for the door, grabbing his jacket at the door and turning to me. “Come lock up.”
I snap out of my stunned state and rush that direction, but he doesn’t wait for me. He exits the apartment. Once I’m at the door, I want to open it. I want to go after him, but I know it’s too late. He’s gone.
Chapter thirty-nine
Damion
Control is a king’s gold, my father has always told me, and control has been his for far too long. Leaving Alana tonight is the last thing I want to do, but it’s necessary. My father has to be dealt with, and until that happens, she’ll never be safe.
I exit the elevator at the lobby, where Adam waits on me. He offers me a nod and steps into the car, on his way to our floor, where he will closely guard the apartment and Alana. I trust him, which is not something I say of many people I’ve recently met, or even known for a lifetime, for that matter. But Blake doesn’t steer me wrong. He chooses his men closely, and it shows. He has morals. They do, too. It’s a unique perspective on living if you judge the world by those who gather and occupy mine.
I cross the lobby with measured steps and exit to a chilly night, where an SUV is waiting on me in front of the building, ready to deliver me to my meeting with Caleb. Once inside the backseat, I find Savage waiting for me on the seat across from me. He’s a big man, at least six-three, with a scar down his cheek and, based on the one time I met him before, a stupid sense of humor that somehow works for him when it would for no other.
There’s nothing comical about him at the moment, though; his jaw set hard, his eyes sharp. He tosses a file on the seat next to me. “Before we leave, you need to look inside. That’s the many horrors that call Caleb a monster, not a man, and you don’t trust monsters.”
I don’t reach for the file. “Were you once a killer just like him?”
“Not just like him,” he says without hesitation. “I worked for a man I believed to be honorable, and believed I killed the enemies of this country. But what you need to know about becoming a contract killer is how easily you begin to kill. How removed from humanity you become.”