Chapter 28 Nyx #2
Her words hang in the air, brushing something raw inside me. My eyes close, my head dropping between my shoulders as I force the crushing weight back down. “Sometimes, it comes at a steep one,” I mutter, my voice hollow. “As you’ve seen tonight.”
“But murder?” she presses, stepping closer. There’s hesitation in her tone, and when her hand brushes my shoulder—light, tentative—it takes everything in me not to lean into it. I shake the thought from my head, stiffening.
“Murder, arson, torture… Pick your poison, baby,” I say coldly, shrugging off her touch. My hands move to the cabinets again, riffling through them with enough force to send the bottles rattling. “Is there nothing stronger on this fucking boat?”
She moves quietly, crossing the room. From her clutch, she pulls a small flask. Wordlessly, she pours a shot of something clear into my glass, her eyes steady on mine.
I take it from her, my brow raising as I sniff the contents. It smells like a warning—sharp and potent. But I toss it back. It burns like hell as it goes down, scorching my throat, coiling like acid in my stomach. But I welcome the pain.
“Fuck,” I hiss, the word dragged from my chest in a guttural growl.
The burn is a punishment, a distraction—anything to keep me from dragging her into the storm raging inside me even more than I already have. But images of her tear-soaked face—her on her knees—have a sinister grin curling on my lips.
“Nyx…” Her voice, a soft caress laced with concern. It grates against the wall I’m trying to keep between us. “Would you just talk to me? Stop pushing me away.”
The anger bubbles back up, clawing at the surface as I look up at her.
“What do you want to hear, Naomi?” I take a step toward her, watching as she instinctively steps back.
Good. “That I regret what I did tonight?” With another step, I watch the column of her back stiffen as she hits the glass doors behind her.
“That I’m sorry I laid those fuckers out? ”
“Nyx,” she breathes, my name trembling off her lips—part prayer, part curse, like she’s not sure if saying my name will save her or damn her to more pain tonight.
The sound of it sends a wicked thrill through me.
I close the space between us in an instant, my left hand pressed to the cool surface beside her head, trapping her.
My other hand rises to her throat, my thumb brushing over the frantic flutter of her pulse.
Fuck, her skin. It’s so soft, so inviting, I have to fight the urge to sink my teeth into her, to mark her, to devour her.
“I will never be remorseful for any action I take when it comes to protecting you,” I whisper, my lips grazing the shell of her ear. The faint scent of her perfume—crushed cherry smoke—pulls me under, intoxicating and infuriating in equal measure. “Say you understand.”
She swallows hard, then nods—barely, but I feel it.
“Say it. Say you understand.”
Her pulse flutters beneath my thumb like a wing caught in a storm. Slowly, her hand lifts between us, trembling with uncertainty, until her warm palm rests against my cheek, soft and tentative, like she’s afraid I’ll disappear tonight too.
“I understand,” she murmurs, her voice so soft it’s almost a whisper. Her touch is warm, unsure as her fingers stroke through my hair. My eyes shut involuntarily, the sensation too much and not enough all at once.
She’s temptation incarnate; sin wrapped in softness.
I nuzzle into her palm, breathing her in like a drug I can’t refuse.
She melts against me, body pliant and trusting, like she doesn’t realize she’s folding herself into the arms of something dangerous.
Like she was made for ruin—and I was made to deliver it.
“Just—” She manages to let out in a trembling breath.
“Don’t.” My hand tightens around her neck, shaking her out of her spell.
I can’t get caught up in simple touches and batting eyelashes, no matter how beautiful the dame is.
Even if her beauty is more lethal than the barrel of my gun, I can’t cave to whispered promises or honey-coated lies.
I shove her back, step away, leaving her pinned to the wall—stunned, breathless, her pulse screaming beneath her skin.
“I will protect you,” I say, voice cold. “But only because I have to.”
For a split second, I think I see a faint flicker of something in her eyes—unspoken promises—but it doesn’t matter, I don’t linger.
“It’s my job after all,” I bite out, my voice cold as I turn and walk away, each step echoing the only thing there can ever be between us…
Acrimony.
The dawn breaks to the sound of waves, the strong aftertaste of liquor on my tongue, and rays of sun stabbing the cornea of my eyes. I groan, burying my face deeper into my pillow as if it could shield me from the assault.
My head feels like someone took a sledgehammer to it—repeatedly—and I’m pretty sure my throat is drier than the Sahara. The yacht rocks gently beneath me, doing nothing to help the nausea fucking up my stomach.
Somewhere in the distance, I can hear the faint sizzle of bacon in a pan, the unmistakable scent of coffee cutting through the remnants of last night’s liquor haze. My stomach growls in protest, but the rest of me would rather stay dead to the world.
Unfortunately, that’s not an option.
I force myself out of bed, checking my phone—the only message is a reply from Max that says they made it out after I let him know Naomi was safe.
Dragging my sorry ass to the bathroom, I brush my teeth and pull on black sweatpants before heading to the main salon.
Cade’s laughter greets me before I even step into the room, obnoxious and too damn loud for this hour—or for my pounding head.
“Morning, sunshine,” Cade says, leaning back against the breakfast bar, a coffee cup in one hand and a smirk on his face. Xay sits on the counter nearer the fridge, nursing what looks like a protein shake.
“Kill me,” I mutter, heading straight for the coffee pot. My hand barely steadies as I pour myself a cup, taking a long sip of the black, bitter liquid.
“Still no word from your brothers?” Xay asks, his voice tinged with concern.
I shake my head. “Nothing yet.” The silence sits heavy between us, though Cade doesn’t let it last long.
“Cheer up,” he says. “At least the view is amazing this morning.”
I follow his gaze to the back deck, and there she is.
The sunlight kisses her rich, dark skin, casting her in a glow that makes her look ethereal.
Her warm tones glisten as she moves through her yoga flow, slow and graceful.
Her short shorts leave little to the imagination, and her top clings in all the right places.
My headache takes a backseat to the heat pooling in my chest, the sight of her enough to make me forget how wrecked I feel. At least she is doing something to distract that pretty little mind of hers—our rooms are across the hall from each other, and I could hear her sobbing all night.
It took everything in me not to go in there. Not to hold her.
Cade whistles low. “Damn. If that’s how she always starts her mornings, I can see why everyone is fucked in the head about her.”
Before I can respond—or glare him into silence—Xay smacks him across the back of the head, hard enough to make Cade wince.
“Show some fucking respect,” Xay snaps, his tone sharp, though his eyes flicker to Naomi more than once.
Cade grumbles, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.”
I change the subject. “Where the fuck did she get new clothes?”
Xay sighs, his guilt registering loudly. “I left in the middle of the night to get her some things that might make her a bit more comfortable.”
“And you got her those?” As hard as it is to peel my eyes away from her ass, I do, cutting Xay with a glare.
“Hey, don’t look at me.” He crunches down on a piece of bacon. “Aisha packed that. I just picked up the bag. We met at a halfway point, I made sure no one followed me, and I came straight back,” he insists.
“Tell Aisha I said thank you for her service.” Cade gives a mock salute as he tilts his head to the side, taking in Naomi’s new position. With a slow smirk, he grabs his plate and slides onto the other side of the bar—angled perfectly for a better view.
“Cade?”
“Hm?” he hums, eyes still plastered to her.
“Do you have a fucking death wish?” I ask casually, but it’s enough to snap his attention. He falls right in my narrowed gaze.
“No,” he says, cocking a brow as if genuinely confused.
“Then for the love of God, stop talking.” He mumbles a curse. His eyes drop to his plate as he idly pushes some eggs around with a fork, looking like a spoiled child. But it beats him eye fucking her.
I slide the same look to Xay. “And you, you know what you did was a security breach, what the fuck were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that we’re gonna be here ‘til things cool off.” He continues typing away on his phone, taking another sip of his protein shake. “At the very least, she should have something other than a blood-stained dress.”
My eyes drift back to Naomi, my chest tightening. She’s the calm in this storm, the one constant I didn’t know I needed. And right now? Watching her move so effortlessly, so completely serene, I can’t look away. Mia Pace. She is my peace.
“You think you could have run it by me before you went rogue?” I grunt.
The fucker is just like Kaios, and at almost the same age, it’s no wonder. I’m beginning to see why Jaxon is always cross about it.
“It doesn’t look like you’re distraught by the decision I made.” My eyes flick to him, a shit-eating smirk tightly curled on his face. “Go handle that shit, before you put somebody’s eye out,” he says, returning his gaze to his phone.
“Shut the fuck up,” I mumble. But the reality is that I’m bricked. Going commando in sweatpants probably wasn’t the right decision today, but then how was I supposed to know she’d be out here with her ass on full display in downward dog?