Chapter Eight
Addie
The shower turns on, and I stand there in the center of the hotel room, my feet planted, unmoving on the outside while my thoughts are a wild jamboree.
He’ll make it right for me…
Suddenly, everything comes together for me. I know Creed. I know he’s not evil. But he doesn’t know. And that’s the problem. It’s always been the problem. I glance at the clock. I have very little time to get ready and out of this room to make my flight. I need to be on that flight because we’re at war, and he doesn’t have to fight it alone. I won’t let him fight it alone.
Guilt stabs at me for how hard I’ve been on him, and I rush through the bathroom door and step to the opposite side of the shower door. I hesitate. I need to get ready. He has to shower to leave, too. I rotate away from him and start messing with my make-up. My hair is all but dry, and I plug in my flat iron to try to do something with it. I study my eyes, and they’ve returned to their natural color. That’s important, because otherwise I’d be trapped and unable to finish the mission of getting a copy of Brock’s hard drive.
By the time the water turns off, I’ve finished my make-up and at least taken the frizz from my still slightly damp hair. I’m as ready as I can be. I glance at my phone and determine that I have about ten minutes to fight with Creed about me doing this and less to say all I want to say to him. He steps out of the shower, and I’m certain he’s noticed that I’m not hiding from him or his nudity, though I don’t dare look at him, or neither of us are leaving this room anytime soon.
I press my hands to the counter. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Creed.” I rotate to face him just as he’s wrapped a towel around his waist. And, oh my God, he’s breathtakingly gorgeous. He always was, but now—now there’s something different about him. Something intensely masculine.
I step into him and wrap my arms around him. “I was such a bitch. I get that now. You were trying to protect me. You still are.”
His lashes lower, little droplets of water clinging to them, his expression etched in torment. “Yes,” he says, and nothing more.
“You are not evil.”
“You sure as fuck thought so an hour ago.”
“I was hurt. I was really hurt. And confused. But I shouldn’t have been. I know you. I really do. I feel you in ways that I can’t explain, and that was before the mark. And because of that, I know that you will always throw yourself on the sword, and that’s what you did for me and for everyone.”
“You’re better off hating me. That’s the truth. There is nothing good that comes from you being bonded to me.”
“The bonding thing confuses me, and I don’t like parts of it, but I know what I felt for you before it existed. And it didn’t change us. I have so much I want to say to you about that and other things, Creed. You have no idea. I don’t hate you. I never hated you. But right now, I also need to get on that flight.”
His hands come down on my arms. “No. Hard no.”
“Please listen. Please. Don’t protect me to the point of jeopardizing others. We need that hard drive. You did your part. Let me do mine.”
“No. Fuck no. Julian ordered a hit on you.”
“I’ll be safe on the plane.”
“I can’t get on that plane with you without Brock figuring out I’m there.”
“No, you’re pretty easy to spot, Creed.”
“I can’t protect you, so, no.”
“Based on what I saw of you and the wind last night, you can be with me until I board. Maybe even on board. And you will be there when I land. And then I’m done. Then I’ll go to Sunrise City. Creed, be logical. This isn’t about us. It’s about the world. It’s about innocent people. You can protect me. You’ll be right there.”
“Knowing what is happening and being able to stop it are two different things.”
“The only time you won’t be able to get to me is when I’m on the actual flight. Creed—”
His hands come down on my face, and he tilts my gaze to his. “You will never do anything like this again. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I don’t want to do this, but we both know it’s necessary.”
He just holds me like that, seeming to fight an internal war, before he kisses me—a wild, hot kiss—and then sets me away from him. “I need three minutes to get dressed.”