Chapter 11 #2
The privacy screen in the limo, lowering a bit. “Boss.” Carl’s voice. “We’re approaching the estate.” Another hiss as the screen raised back into place.
I want her in my home. Locked behind my gates. Safe. Protected.
Odd. When he’d never been much for protecting anyone in this world. He’d grown up to be a destroyer.
Her mouth pulled from his. Her head lifted.
She straddled him as they remained in the back of that limo, one leg on either side of his, her knees pushing into the seat, her fingers on his cheeks and jaw even as his hands remained curled around her waist. The tension was thick between them.
Her breath came in ragged pants. Hell, so did his.
All he wanted was to strip her and take her.
Control. Because…not yet. He could not screw this up yet. He’d given her forty-eight hours. He could be a man of his word. After all, she’d just been a woman of hers. “You were right,” he said, aware that his voice came out extra rough and rumbly.
“Right?” Her voice was husky. Tempting. “About what?”
“You did give me the best kiss of my life.” He could admit it. As if there were any comparison. He’d pretty much been on the verge of coming just from kissing her and dry humping her in the back of the limo.
She blinked at him.
“Aw, sweets, don’t you remember?” He smiled at her. “You promised me the best kiss of my life if I got you out of that basement. I delivered. And so did you.”
Her lips pressed together. Then, “I think it was the best kiss of my life, too.”
His smile stretched. “Just so you know, when I do get you naked, I will be the best fuck of your life, too.”
She nodded. “I believe you.” Very serious.
He had to kiss her again even as the limo slowed.
They’d reached his house and gone through the gates at the end of the drive.
Gently, carefully, he lifted her off him and slid her back to her seat.
When the vehicle parked, he didn’t wait for Carl to come around for them.
Atlas opened the door and reached back with his right hand for her.
She’d grabbed for her diary. She held it fiercely with her right hand, but her left reached for him. He pulled her out of the limo, and her gaze darted over the massive exterior of his house, perfectly revealed now by the bright sunlight.
A low whistle came from her. “Wow. All of this space…”
Fourteen thousand square feet.
“All for you?” Lily turned her head toward him.
“No.” Not just him. “You’re here, too.” Had he blown thirty-four million on the house?
He fucking had. Had he once spent months sleeping on the floor of one of his foster homes?
Had he once been locked in a closet for damn days and now he had fucking claustrophobia that would try to slip up on him so he liked open spaces and open rooms and—
“Yes, I am here, too.” Her fingers squeezed his. “I also imagine there are security personnel who are here?”
Damn straight, there were. “They will be patrolling the grounds. And cameras are everywhere.” He led her inside the Spanish Revival style house.
Walls of windows provided views in every direction, and sunlight spilled through the rooms. Venetian, hand-blown glass chandeliers hung overhead, and as he took her through the house, they passed several stained-glass windows.
What the hell could he say? He’d liked the stained-glass when he’d first seen it in Italy.
They walked up the curving staircase, and he was aware of Lily taking everything in, but not saying a word.
Through her eyes he could realize that, yeah, the place was over the top. Too big. Too expensive, too…
Screw it. “I had nothing.” Flat. They were at the top of the stairs.
He turned to the right. Opened the door to the bedroom next to his.
“When I was growing up, I never had a home that was mine. I was shuffled around, forgotten. Excluded. I would carry my belongings in a trash bag from one place to the other.” Such a sad pile of belongings.
Donated clothing in a trash bag. Tennis shoes with worn soles and holes in the toes.
Her gaze darted around the house. “This is no trash bag.”
No, it wasn’t. He opened the bedroom door. “Guest room.” Curt. Because he’d noticed the darkening shadows beneath her eyes and the slight sway of her body. “You won’t be disturbed. Sleep as long as you want. A bathroom is connected.”
“I…didn’t get clothes. From my place, I mean.”
He let go of her hand, but only so his fingers could rise and cup her chin. “You didn’t get the clothes because they were slashed to pieces.”
She winced.
“Don’t worry. By the time you wake up, I’ll have a whole new wardrobe for you.” He’d snap his fingers, and it would be done. There were benefits to being rich as fuck. When he’d been a kid, he had to steal to get what he wanted.
Not any longer.
But she shook her head. “Unnecessary. I can pay for them myself.”
“Sure, you could. You could also have let me die yet you jumped in to save me, so…I’m buying you the damn clothes.”
She lingered near the door, clearly about to argue with him.
Argue, when she should have been sleeping.
She’d gotten hit by their attacker, too.
He frowned at her. “How’s your head?” At the hospital, the doctors and nurses hadn’t seemed as concerned with Lily’s injuries.
Something that had pissed Atlas off. Sure, he had more physical bruising on his body, but she’d been hurt, too.
He’d even insisted that she be examined first.
“I’m fine.” A note of worry as her gaze scanned him. “What about you?”
“Never better.” Every part of him hurt.
“I thought we weren’t lying to each other.” She swayed a little on her feet.
Obviously, he was going to have to take care of her. He hadn’t taken care of anyone before. Without hesitation, he swept her into his arms.
“Atlas! Stop! You took a blow to the head from the creep—you should not be carrying me around!”
You took one, too. He ignored her words and carried her into the bedroom. “I wasn’t the only one who got knocked out. Hate to remind you, but you took a blow, too.”
“I’m not carrying you!”
No, she was not. “Probably want to kick off your shoes.”
Her right arm had flown behind his neck as she held on. “What are you doing?” Her left hand now held her precious diary.
Oh, but I need to peek inside those pages. Later. For now, though… “I’m getting you in bed.” Because they didn’t need to fight about clothing when she was about to collapse.
He heard her shoes hit the floor.
“Good girl,” Atlas praised.
She growled at him.
“Oh, sorry.” A laugh slid from him. “Bad girl. Very, very bad.”
“I’m a woman.”
Oh, yes, you sure as hell are. “And are you bad?” He lowered her onto the bed.
“I guess you’ll find out.”
He wanted to keep touching her. “Need me to help you strip?” He’d be happy to oblige.
“I have it, thanks.”
He stepped back, but didn’t leave, not yet. “I know you enjoy stripping in front of me, so, by all means, go ahead.” Atlas tried to sound magnanimous. “Don’t let me stop you.”
“Again, I’ve got it, thanks.” And she hauled part of the comforter over her still-dressed body. The fluffy comforter covered her—and her diary. “Where will you be?”
“Right next door, of course.” As if he’d go a greater distance than that. “Unless you want me to sleep with you, and, in that case, I can climb into bed with you right now.” He rather liked that idea.
“I’ll be fine here.” That slightly pointed chin of hers angled up. “Alone.”
“Sure about that? You could have nightmares. If you have them, all you have to do is call for me.” He’d come running. True story.
“I always have nightmares. They won’t be anything new, and they won’t be anything that I can’t handle.”
Her words gave him pause. “Maybe you’ll tell me about your nightmares one day soon.”
She stared at him.
Right. Today was not the day to hear her nightmares. He turned away. “Scream if you need me. I truly will come running.” His hand reached for the door.
“Thank you, Atlas.”
His hand hung in the air.
“If I’d gone back to my home by myself and found that destruction…” Her words trailed away.
What if you’d gone there without me and found that prick waiting for you? “He knows who you are, Lily.” Growled. “He knows where you live.”
“It’s more than that. He knows about my research. He has my files.”
Now Atlas glanced back at her. “Files on me.”
“On you, on at least a dozen adult children of serial killers and…” An exhale. “The locations of those individuals are listed in files. The crimes of their parents and, um….” She bit her lower lip.
He waited even as exhaustion pulled at him. His body ached in a million places. Pain he hadn’t noticed when he was touching her. Kissing her.
“For some of them, I suspected that they might be tied to current…incidents. I just didn’t have enough evidence to completely prove those suspicions yet.”
Yeah, he’d rather thought that might be the case. Lily believed some of her would-be subjects had followed in the footsteps of their parents and become killers. “Like me, huh? Like when you suspected I might be the one killing in Dallas?”
A nod.
“We’ll deal with it,” he said, because they would. “After we’ve slept, we’ve eaten, and I don’t feel like a human punching bag any longer.”
Another nod. “Thank you.” Soft.
Ah, she should not thank him. Being with him would probably turn out to be a disaster for her. He looked away and reached for the doorknob.
“In my nightmares…” Lily’s voice drifted to him. “I’m dying. I can feel the darkness reaching out to swallow me whole.”
He exhaled. “In my nightmares…” His spine straightened. “I am the darkness.” And death was all around him.
But that wasn’t just the case in his nightmares. It was like that in his real life, too.
I am the darkness. He’d been carrying the weight of evil on his shoulders his entire life.