Chapter 9
Delilah
I’m not sure if I want to punch Xavier or kiss him for what he did today. Actually, it’s both.
Every time I think about how he attended my classes so I could hear the lectures firsthand, butterflies take flight in my stomach and swarm my chest. If I wasn’t on pain meds, I’d drink enough alcohol to drown those bitches. Somehow, I keep ignoring the fact that he threw a freaking knife at me.
I briefly close my eyes, wrapped in the cocoon of Xavier’s sheets and surrounded by the scent of him.
My skin is warm and damp from the shower I took, and my hair lies on my shoulders in clumps.
Bathing myself left me with barely enough energy to stumble into bed. Combing my hair is out of the question.
Fatigue doesn’t stop my mind from racing, though, and all my thoughts are centered on Xavier. They range from excitement to anxiety until my nerves make my fingers shake. I’m looking forward to seeing him. I wish I could blame it on being alone all day, but I know that’s not it.
I miss him.
“Fuck me.”
I shake my head at my idiotic musings. I’m a psych major, so I think it’s safe to say I suffer from Stockholm Syndrome. If it’s not that, then it’s something deeper.
I’d rather be insane than in love.
The vulnerability that comes with such emotion scares the ever-living shit out of me. To give someone that much power over you? Hell no. Fuck no.
Yet . . . whenever I think about how Xavier is willing to die for me, I fall a little more for him.
The door clicks open, the tiny sound echoing in my head. I busy myself with scrolling on my phone like I haven’t been eager for him to return. He stands in the doorway, the light from the hallway framing his face and body. He looks like a guardian angel, all dark edges and violence.
He even has the tattooed wings to complete the image.
“Hey,” he says, his voice a low rumble that travels along my skin, making it warm.
“Hi.”
Xavier walks over to the bed and sits. “Miss me?”
“What? No. What?”
His lips quirk up in a lazy smile. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”
“It’s only because I’ve been alone all day.”
“Didn’t you rest between classes?” He leans over to pluck a strand of hair off my shoulder and rubs it between his fingers. “You showered. I wish you would’ve waited for me.”
The blush I’ve been fighting since he appeared comes rushing to my cheeks. “I had nothing else to do to keep me busy.”
His smile becomes sensual, his eyes gleaming. He tugs on my hair, pulling me a bit closer. “Well, next time, remember that I’m happy to wash every inch of you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I clear my throat. “So, how’d it go with Professor Ames?”
Like I splashed freezing water on him, the playfulness in Xavier’s body language shifts to something cold. “I called you, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” I say slowly, “but I wasn’t sure if that caused any issues. He’s not exactly my biggest fan.”
“I know.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Xavier drops my hair. “At first, I thought your association with Ben was the reason you ended up in the Bride Hunt. Turns out Ames is the reason you’re on the Order’s radar.”
“I knew those accusations were bullshit. There’s no way he could prove I willingly helped someone cheat.” I throw up my hands in exasperation and immediately regret it when the movement tugs the skin around my wound. “My academic advisor was in on it. I fucking knew it.”
I pull in a lungful of air and breathe it out slowly, counting backward from five. I never start at ten because by the time I get to one, I’m usually pissed off all over again since it took too long to get to the end.
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Xavier says. “The founding families have always stuck together. Even the ones who aren’t directly part of the Order’s operations.” He pauses. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“Your face says otherwise.”
“Ignore it.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t. I’ve tried. Even when I close my eyes, you’re there.”
The passion in his voice catches me off guard, the unexpected confession too raw and deep for casual conversation.
His expression changes, his gaze seeking mine, boring a hole into my heart. I bow my head, as if that’ll rid me of the vulnerability that I know is shining in my eyes.
“The Order is a lot to deal with,” I say.
“True, but it’s nothing we can’t handle as long as we’re careful.”
“We?”
He cups my face, gently tracing the line of my jaw with his thumb. “Yes. We’re going to play their game and win. Then it’ll just be the two of us.”
“You’re either delusional or cocky or both.”
“I put the cock in cocky.”
Another wave of heat splashes across my cheeks. “Listen, I’m on doctor’s orders not to engage in any vigorous activity.”
“Not yet.”
I roll my eyes and grin. “Right.”
“Speaking of, I have something for you.”
Xavier lets go of me to reach inside his pocket. He pulls out a set of keys, glinting under the lights, attached to a keychain that’s too fancy to be anything ordinary. I blink down at the emblem on the keychain, not recognizing the logo. That means it’s definitely expensive.
Nausea churns my stomach. “What is it?”
“Something to help you get around campus while you’re getting better.” He smiles at me, and the expression melts my heart. “I can’t have my girl struggling.”
“Please tell me you didn’t buy me a car.” When he shakes his head, I relax minutely. “Then what is it?”
“A golf cart.”
“A what?” My voice is a screech, a fusion of disbelief and shock. “Why?”
His smile disappears, taking its warmth as well.
“Listen, there’s no way you can walk comfortably to and from your classes with your injury.
That’s not even considering the fact that you could sabotage your recovery if you overexert yourself.
I’m simply giving you a mode of transportation that’ll assist with the healing process.
” He pauses, frowning. “Although, it’s a two-seater, meant for you and me only.
Not any other guys. Maybe not even Raven, unless she’s willing to keep you out of trouble. ”
“I can’t take this.”
I curl my fingers around his, closing them over the set of keys. The warmth of his touch contrasts with the cold metal in his palm. When I withdraw my hand, something flits over Xavier’s features before his face is a mask, concealing his emotions.
“This is . . . too much,” I whisper. “I appreciate the thought, but I can’t accept it.”
“Why the fuck not? It’s a gift.”
I drop my gaze at the anger in his voice, unable to face him. “If this is about you attending my classes, please don’t feel obligated to do that.”
“Obligated?” He slides from the bed and lands on his feet. “Do you think I do anything I don’t want to?”
I shrug, keeping my gaze downcast. “Your reasons are your own. Just like I have mine.”
“My reasons? Maybe I don’t want to see you suffering when I know I can ease your pain. Maybe I need to erase this fucking guilt inside me. Or perhaps I just want to take care of you. But you won’t let me because you’re too damn stubborn to see a gift for what it is.”
“Manipulation,” I snap.
“Contrition.”
His sincerity cuts through my defenses and initial embarrassment. This entire thing wasn’t about him flaunting his wealth or using it to control me. Xavier wants to make amends, to apologize.
I flick my gaze to him. “Xavier, I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I really do, but I can’t accept this present. A get-well card and some flowers would’ve been fine. That’s the normal approach.”
He crosses his arms and blows out a breath. “I’ve never had a girlfriend, so I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing. I just know I can’t stand by and watch you suffer.”
I blink up at him. “You’ve never dated anyone?”
“I told you: I don’t do girlfriends.”
“I know, but . . . not even once?”
His gaze narrows. “I’ve never met anyone who made me want to change that.”
Until you.
The unspoken words hang in the air, making it hard for me to breathe. Xavier is going beyond the call of duty toward his bride. He’s committed to me in a way I didn’t want to acknowledge until now. Because I was too scared.
If he’s willing to be vulnerable with me, how can I keep from doing the same?
The moment vibrates with an intensity that’s hard to define or contain. Xavier, the enigmatic, unattainable man who entered my life like a wraith in the night, has never allowed anyone to get close enough to be called a girlfriend. Yet here he is, treating me like one. Like I’m worthy.
“Is that what I am to you now?” I ask.
He leans down and snatches my chin, forcing my gaze to his. “No. Girlfriend is too trivial a word for what you are to me.”
“And what is that?”
“Mine. You’re my fucking world, Delilah.”