Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Eve
During the short car ride back to Rush House, I’m mentally kicking myself. Why’d I have to run my mouth about “escaping his orbit?”
Real smooth.
For a split second, I got too comfortable, let my guard down, and revealed too much. Now he’s definitely suspicious. And if he wasn’t watching my every move before, he will be now.
We pull into the long driveway, and Christian kills the engine. His arm is slung over the steering wheel, head down, until finally he looks over at me. “You’ll sleep with me from now on.”
I had a feeling he’d insist on that.
“Um, yeah, about that,” I say, my voice loud in the tight interior. “If the person who tried to kill me is a jealous ex or something, then maybe it’s better I sleep alone…”
He leans back with a heavy sigh. “No.”
Fuck, here we go.
I point to the house through the windshield. “Someone inside that house just tried to kill me,” I say. “Someone who obviously sees me as some kind of threat.”
“I’m handling it.”
Breath held, I ask, “So you found out who it was…?”
His jaw tightens, and he shakes his head. “You’re sleeping with me, Eve. I can keep you safe. That’s the end of it.” His tone is defiant, daring me to challenge him.
“That’s not your choice.”
“The fuck it isn’t.” He leans toward me, crowding me in the small space. “Eve, the second you stepped over the threshold into my world, I owned you.”
His roughly spoken words remind me of the CW carved into my skin, and something trickles down my spine. I wish it were disgust. It isn’t. Heat blooms beneath my skin, unwanted, yet undeniable. Still, I’m not about to give up my autonomy simply to entertain him until he gets tired of me. If that’s what he wants, then he can go back to Sara.
“So, what, I’m a prisoner now?”
Those pale eyes narrow, and I practically feel the heat coming off him. “Do you really think you’d be safer on your own? We have no fucking clue who tried to hurt you. What if they try to come at you again while everyone is sleeping?” He shakes his head. “Like it or not, you’re safer with me.”
“I was in your bedroom when it happened, which just proves my point. Even you can’t protect me 24/7.”
His beautiful face hardens. “Someone is about to learn exactly what happens when they threaten you.”
Leaning back against the door, I release a breath. This shit with Christian is confusing, and toxic, and one giant red flag, and yet…I’m constantly being pulled to him. Like a moth drawn to a flame, I can’t resist his hypnotic pull. This crazy magnetic attraction keeps luring me back into his orbit. And I can’t help but wonder if surrendering to the force that is Christian West is worth the risk of getting burned...
Pushing a breath out, I glance through the windshield at the bright morning sky. It’s funny how even on the worst days, something like that can still take your breath away for a second. Like the universe throwing you a bone, saying, “Hey, it’s not all bad.”
“I have class in an hour,” I say flatly.
“You should go upstairs and get some rest. I’ll have someone sit in on the lecture and record it for you.”
How tempting. I am exhausted. I was up all night chatting with Lowe. Not that I would have slept anyway. After the initial wave of adrenaline wore off at the hospital, I drifted off for a couple of hours out a sheer exhaustion…but after that, sleep wasn’t happening.
“No, I need to go,” I say with a sigh. “School is a good distraction.”
He nods silently, then pushes out a breath like he doesn’t agree, but he’ll go along with it anyway. “I have a meeting this morning, so I’ll have one of the security guys take you.”
“A meeting…?” I repeat, prompting him to offer more details.
Spoiler alert, he doesn’t, which shouldn’t surprise me. I’ve noticed Christian doesn’t give anything away unless he absolutely needs to. He holds everything so close to the chest, I wonder how he doesn’t suffocate under the stress of it all. Sometimes I catch little glimpses when his guard slips—like he’s actual flesh and blood under all that armor. Makes me curious what he’d be like if he ever felt safe enough to just...breathe.
The house is quiet when we walk in, which is strange, but only because this place is usually a hive of activity. At some point during the night, Jackson usually rounds everyone up and kicks them out. Then there’s a brief window of silence, a few hours, before people start showing up again. It’s an endless cycle.
As I mount the back stairs, Christian says, “Hold up.”
Pausing, I turn around. With me on the step and him on the ground, we’re nearly the same height. Grabbing the banister post, he pulls himself forward, his face so close to mine, I can feel his warm breath on my mouth.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” he whispers, his gaze drifting down to my lips. “I protect what’s mine.”
“I almost died yesterday,” I remind him for the trillionth time.
There’s a softness in his eyes I’ve never seen before, like me almost dying actually had some kind of effect on him. Who would have known the devil actually has feelings?
“I know,” is all he says, but his tone is strained, heavy.
Sucking in a breath, he inches forward, and presses a chaste kiss against my lips. Tingles sweep through my veins, and I lean into him, into the kiss. But the spell is broken when his phone dings and he pulls back.
“I’ve gotta go,” he says reluctantly. “I’ll catch up with you after my meeting.”
My tongue slides over my bottom lip, and I nod once. “Sure.”
When I get up to his room, I shut the door behind me and lean against it, heart pounding. What the hell just happened? Such a simple kiss shouldn’t have this kind of effect on me, and yet, I’m spiraling. That look in his eyes when I mentioned almost dying—it was genuine pain, like I fucking matter to him.
How did we get here? One minute we are ready to tear each other to pieces, then we’re fucking, and now …I release a sigh. Now, I have no idea what’s happening. All I know is that the idea of going back to my pre-Christian existence feels unbelievably depressing.
God, I’m so confused.
Tears prickle behind my eyelids. This is all too much. Just a few short weeks ago, all I wanted was go to school and mind my own damn business. And yet, somehow, I’ve managed to do the exact opposite. Now, I’m wrapped up with the most dangerous guy on campus, and what’s worse, the idea of walking away from him makes my stomach knot up.
Get it together, Eve.
With a deep breath, I force all thoughts of Christian out of my head. I need to focus on why I came to Rush House in the first place. And once I’ve gotten what I came for…well, then I can sort through my fucked-up feelings for Christian.
Eye on the prize.
Eye. On. The. Prize.
The smell of medical-grade disinfectant clings to my skin, so I lock the bedroom door and head straight to the bathroom, cranking the shower as hot as I can stand it. Under the steaming water, I scrub my skin, and for the first time in a while, the tension in my muscles melts away, and I start to relax…
Well, until I step out of the shower, dry off, and then realize my duffel bag is missing. The muscles in my shoulders tense right back up as I search. Where did I see it last? I remember dumping the contents all over the floor yesterday, but all that is gone now. Someone must have cleaned it all up. Christian, maybe?
After looking around, I find my empty duffel bag in the closet, my clothes neatly folded or hung up beside Christian’s on the rack. But it’s not my clothes I’m worried about…
Heart in my throat, I reach down and tear the bag open, looking for the one thing I actually give a shit about in this entire world—the little box my mom gave me before she died. But my duffel bag is completely empty.
Where’s the box?
With a towel wrapped around me, I search the large closet, ripping drawers open, looking under stacks of T-shirts, when out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of red and green Christmas wrapping paper.
On a shelf, sitting beside a display of expensive watches, is my mom’s gift. I pick it up and inspect it. It’s undamaged, thank God. The tape has come loose on one end, but that probably happened when I was frantically looking for my EpiPen.
With a sigh of relief, I place the box back on the shelf and finish getting ready.
Once I’m dressed, I pause and glance at the ornate fireplace across the room. Something tugs at my mind—are the keys still there? I move toward it and press the hidden panel, which immediately gives way. The two keys sit undisturbed inside the dusty cubby hole. Thank God. I reach in and pick them up, and slide them into my jean pocket. I still need to figure out which building they belong to.
But as I walk to class with one of the security guys trailing behind me, I’m not thinking about the keys like I should. My mind circles on that kiss with Christian at the foot of the stairs. There was something different about it, like a missing piece of a puzzle sliding into place inside me. It felt so amazingly right, and if I’m being honest, that feeling terrifies me more than almost dying…