He all but growled the words, unable to restrain the fury her injuries induced. The bastard human was dead, but hiswomanbore marks left by his hand. The moment the gun hit her cheek, Goddess help him, he had nearly lost control of himself, his magic. He was ready to destroy the entire building over her pain. ’Twas solely because of her he maintained his control. Her plea not to use his magic, the magic that would have destroyed the mortal in a vile manner.
“And you need to stop believing you’re invincible,” she snapped back, her pale skin taking on a deep rose. Those green eyes watched him with far less malice than her voice insinuated. He dared to believe she was actually…distressed over his recklessness. The very idea made his heart skip. “You’re not.”
“I’m far more invincible to a mortal than you.”
He added a final touch of numbing magic as the fracture he detected along her cheekbone finished healing. A growl slipped through his lips as he grabbed her small waist, spun her around and lifted her onto the dresser. Her fingers bit into his shoulders, holding tight. He smacked his hands on either side of her hips, leaning into her. She didn’t retreat, as she seldom ever did, and it created a burn within him that he found hopeless to fight. His chest felt strange—light, tingly. His cock hardened until his pants felt utterly uncomfortable. The strength he consumed to keep from sweeping his gaze over her damp body, the scrap of fabric that clung to wet patches of her skin and turned translucent, the haphazard scrunch of her tiny shorts where she hadn’t smoothed the twisted waistband.
His mouth dried. His lips ached.
To kiss her again.
Dear Goddess, to dosomuchmore…
“Rori, I’ll make one thing very clear. I can handle attacks and Iwillwin. That—that”—he scowled, biting back the anger still raw inside his blood—“amadán críochnaithewas as good as dead the moment he stepped behind you. You should have heeded my warning and returned to your apartment. Yet...”
He reached for her healed cheek, battling to hold onto his frustration. Alas, a crease deepened between his brows as he gently brushed his fingertips over her unmarred skin. She transformed beneath his touch, the stubborn thorns shriveling and falling away. Her eyes, so bright with her soul’s fire, smoldered beneath the smoke of her inner flame. Oh, how he’d fought to keep himself from falling into those eyes, from perishing in her blaze. Her pupils yawned, drinking him into the fortress of her spirit and the treasures that lay beneath her shell.
“You put yourself in danger when I had the situation under control,” he said quietly. “To protect a creature who deserves naught of your selflessness and sacrifice.”
“You were nearly ambushed last night.”
“That Fae did not elude me. I was aware of his position.”
Rori’s gaze lowered. “Rich was going to shoot?—”
“A bullet does not kill a Fae,storín, unless it’s iron-forged. And I’m far more agile than any bullet. ’Twouldn’t have had time to reach me. The only reason he hurt you was because I did not believe he’d hit a woman with another man present.”
A sharp sound expulsed from Rori’s throat. A raw, bitter-sounding rasp that accompanied a scathing scowl she tried to hide with the tilt of her head. “How soon you forget the condition you saw me in only a few days ago. He did that tome in a hospital parking lot.” A shaky breath rushed from her pursed lips. ’Twas then he felt a different type of moisture settle against this thumb. She lifted her eyes once more, only this time, they shimmered with tears. “What did you do to him?”
He dried the trail of her tear. “Do you pity the imbecile?”
“No. He’s one person I feel no pity for. Just…”
Fear.
The word needn’t be spoken for him to hear it, understand it, and its significance to his woman. Fear, the vile emotion not evenhecould save her from. ’Twas etched so deeply inside her, rendering her frozen, helpless. All her fear had been reserved for a worthless mortal man.
She closed her eyes, thick lashes fanning over her cheeks. Fresh tears clumped her lashes together and moistened the crease of her eyes. Her fingers had relaxed against his shoulders, but made no indication of falling away. Her body leaned into him, a slight movement but one he detected in the weight of her cheek against his palm and the flare of heat through his blood. Her scent filled him, saturated his mind, imprinted within his soul the very essence of the woman before him. Subtle sweetness, a hint of spice—patchouli, mayhap?—fresh dampness. His jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth.
“Thank you,” she whispered on a resigned breath. “Again.”
“You needn’t thank me for protecting you.” He tilted his head, cupping the other side of her face and lifting her chin. Her eyes opened, luminous emeralds exaggerated by the sheen of moisture. “You’ll never need to thank me for keeping you safe.”
A question stirred in her mind and most likely sat heavy on her tongue. He watched the back-and-forth play out in her eyes, the curiosity and wonder, the caution and concern. ’Twas a stage drama he witnessed in real time, an unspoken script that became impressed within his mind. She noticed the shift between them. She felt the change in him. She wanted to ask about it, but struggled to form the words, held tight to her reservation, and he wished not to bring up the topic.
Aye, he wanted naught more than to draw her closer, in every way, but distance would be her safest means of preservation.
He was destined to destroy her.
Setting his resolve, he caressed her cheek, drying another fallen tear. “No one deserves your tears,storín. Keep them close to your heart for when you truly need them. Waste them not on unnecessary things.” He offered her a faint half-grin. “You’ve naught to worry over. Naught shall harm you again.”
Her eyes shifted between his, picking him apart piece by piece. He could feel her peeling away bits of his layers, some here, a few there, persevering through his strongest barriers, his magic, whittling holes in his foundation to find what she sought. Whether she knew the significance of her abilities, he couldn’t say. As much as he wanted to allow her to explore, find whatever treasure she sought, he was too aware of the dark secrets he locked away for himself alone to face. Alas, no degree of power or magic, spells or wards could keep her out.
She had already woven her way into the fabric of his being, hisanamcara.
Her brow creased and she drew a hand from his shoulder, fisting her fingers and pressing it to her chest. The pain in her expression was tangible, thickening the air and tugging at something within his own chest. He found his next breath hard to take. The flutter low in his gut feverous. The pulse along his cock agonizing. ’Twas the bloody universe breaking down any and all protections he fought to keep between themfor no other reason than to do one thing he wouldn’t regret when he was dead.
Break her heart.
