Chapter 29 #2
“The proper legal channels are what brought us here in the first place, Safia. Whether you admit it or not, this country has different laws for different classes. Sometimes justice means taking matters into your own hands.”
I look over at her, and my pulse quickens.
I think I’m losing her. I think she’s fading away, retreating back into the black and white castle from which she came.
I knew this moment would come eventually.
I knew I couldn’t hide forever. And I don't want to hide.
Not from her. I want her to see me. Understand me.
At the diner, she talked about nature versus nurture. It was during that conversation that I realized that my life would forever be altered. I am who I am due to circumstance. I’ve accepted that.
But will she? Can she?
“Will you kill again?” she whispers, unable to look at me. “Or are you done? Was this the final show?”
“That depends,” I say, taking a deep breath, “on whether another man touches you or not.”
She snaps her head at me. “What?”
For the first time since we climbed into this vehicle, our eyes meet.
No, not meet. Meetings are for strangers, for colleagues and acquaintances.
Our eyes don’t meet. They collide. Like two black holes.
The way she looks at me sends ripples through the fabric of space-time, and I know, I know deep inside my fucking soul—I’ll never be able to let her go.
“Are you threatening me, Theodore?” Safia asks, her chest rising. I swerve into the shoulder of the freeway and slam the breaks. The car comes to an abrupt halt. Safia jerks against her seat belt, gasping. “Are you crazy?! What are you doing?”
I unclip my seat belt and shift my body toward her, eyes hooded, tone raw.
“I would never threaten you, little lamb. I would never do anything to bring you pain or harm.” I reach over and cup her cheek.
I half expect her to recoil from my touch.
But she leans in. Christ. She leans fucking in.
“I will, however, my sweet, sweet Safia,” I caress her hairline with the pad of my thumb, “kill any man or woman that dares lay a hand on you, whether in anger or in love.”
Safia expels ragged breaths. Her climbing pulse dances against my fingertips as I drag my hand down to the base of her throat.
She’s got the prettiest little throat I’ve ever seen.
“I should call the police,” she whimpers, cheeks rosy and flushed. “I think you may actually be a psychopath.”
With my free hand, I unfasten her seat belt.
“I wish I were,” I groan, my cock twitching in my pants.
“Unfortunately…” With one fluid motion, I coil my hands around Safia’s waist and yank her onto my lap.
She straddles me. “I’m just slightly deranged.
” Her eyes widen when I rock my hips, my cock grinding against her pussy.
“Tell me, Safia…” I tease the elastic hem of her sweatpants.
“If you’re wet right now…does that mean you’re also a little deranged? ”
Safia peers down at me, her green eyes glossed over and raw. “You shouldn’t have killed Kaleb,” she whispers trying so fucking hard to stay the course. “He was going to surrender.”
I slip my hand under her sweatshirt. She moans when I pinch her nipple, twisting and flicking.
“Kaleb was dead long before this evening, little lamb,” I rasp.
“I don’t regret my actions.” I dip my other hand under the elastic waistband of her pants, and circle her wet fucking cunt.
“I’d do it again.” I quicken my speed. “And again.” Safia throws her head back, moaning.
“And again.” She pants, fisting my shirt.
“And…” She quivers, writhing on my lap. “Again.”
Her breath fans against my lips as she comes down from a conflicted high. I know how to make my brilliant girl feel good. I know how to make my little lamb quiver for me. She’s so fucking pretty when she comes. She flushes red. Blue and red. Mmm. Like police sirens. A little taste of justice.
“I should hate you,” she whispers, stroking my cheek. “You’re everything I loathe in humanity.”
I fight the urge to close my eyes, not wanting to lose a single moment that I could spend just looking at her.
“But you don’t, do you, little lamb? You don’t hate me one bit.”
“You’re a dangerous man, Theodore Kane,” she says. I open my mouth to protest, to tell her that she’s safe with me, but she places an index finger across my lips. “But you seem to be correct.”
“Correct?” I breathe out, my wicked soul reaching out and hoping to devour hers.
She tilts her head, and I don’t dare speak. I can feel it in my bones. I can taste it in the thick, balmy air.
She’s mine.
“I…” She pauses thoughtfully. “I… I can’t bear the thought of you rotting in a jail cell.”
“What are you saying, little lamb?” I ask, voice desperate and raw and oh-so-fucking hopeful.
“I’m saying…” She takes a deep, solidifying breath, her gaze locked on mine like an expert sniper. “I’m saying your secret is safe with me.”
My heart swells with earth-shattering affection. But I don’t want us to have secrets. I want her to hold mine, and I hers. I want our demons to be friends, to be allies. I want my secrets to be her secrets. No. Not want.
Need.
I hold my breath and introduce my demons to hers. If I’m right, they’ll fall in fucking love.
“If I asked you for your help, would you say no?”
Safia peers down at me, expression conflicted. “My help?”
I lift my hand, caressing her soft, warm cheek. “What do you say, little lamb? Shall we add accomplice to that glowing résumé of yours?”
She swallows, and I can see the weight of my request sitting heavy on her shoulders. For a moment, I think she might bolt, run far away from me. But then her shoulders relax with resolution.
“I’d like you to take me back to my apartment.”
My pulse quickens. “Your apartment?”
“Yes,” she says, climbing off me. She collapses in her seat, exhaling. “Kaleb’s dead. I can go home now.” Her green eyes capture mine, and a small, teasingly coy smile plays on her lips. “Now...” She reaches over and clasps my hand, grinning. “Tell me the plan.”
Oh my. Our demons aren’t just in love.
They’re goddamn enamored.