Chapter 21 #2
“I’ll train you,” the jerk was telling him. “I’ll teach you. I just have to get them out of the way first. You can’t have any ties. Don’t you see that? If you have ties, they’ll pull you back. They’ll control you. I want you without control.”
“N-no—” Preston tried to lunge away. To stand up.
But he couldn’t stand. He fell right back down. Had the freak broken one of his knees?
“I’ll be seeing you around soon, son.” A little salute. Then he jogged toward the trees.
I’ll get rid of that fake family you have. I’ll bury them deep. They weren’t fake. They were real. They were his. No one took what belonged to him.
Preston pushed up. Fisted dirt and gravel as he rose. His knees—both of them—burned. Agony tore through him. But he stood upright. Then he stumbled forward. One step. Another. Faster and faster. His back throbbed and ached, and every breath had pain exploding through his ribs.
But he kept lurching forward. Leaves slapped at him. Branches. Twigs.
Preston saw the bastard up ahead. His father? No, no, that was the devil.
He was not taking Preston’s family. A primal scream tore from his throat. He launched into the air, and he slammed his body into his prey. Preston tackled him, hard, arms locking around the jerk’s neck, and his body heaving as they fell.
And then there was a crack. A loud one. Because when they’d hit the ground, the bastard’s head and neck had slammed into a big, jagged rock. Preston rolled away from him, unnerved by the sudden laxness of the man’s body.
His head…was twisted funny.
They were near some water. And…blood from the man’s head was seeping into that water.
His eyes were open. On Preston.
But as far as Preston could tell, the man—the monster—was not breathing.
Preston sucked in a deep breath, and his eyes flew open.
Not buried. Not trapped.
He was in his bed. Sloane was with him. Sloane was soft and warm, and her breath blew lightly over his shoulder. Sloane…
She’d kicked the covers away. Or maybe he had. She was naked next to him. Beautiful body. Perfect Sloane. So soft. So delicate. So…
You can’t have any ties. Don’t you see that? If you have ties, they’ll pull you back. They’ll control you. I want you without control.
It had taken him a long time to understand what the Last Breath Killer had meant with those words. As he’d aged, as he’d become more and more isolated, as his parents had died and he’d been left alone, the truth had hit him.
When you cared about someone, you had something to lose. You would toe the line, you would follow the rules—you would do what was necessary in order to protect the ones you loved.
They counted on you. You needed them. They needed you.
But without them, without that tie, without that safety net…
There was nothing to pull you back. Nothing to make you want to follow rules and be a good person. Nothing to make you keep your darker urges in check.
A connection to someone else could save you.
Sometimes.
He turned in the bed, letting his gaze sweep over Sloane. A peek at the nightstand clock told Preston that he’d slept for three whole hours. Pretty much a record for him. How was he able to sleep with her, when he couldn’t with anyone else?
She’s naked and soft and in my bed. Round breasts. Long legs. Slender hips.
Bare sex.
He wanted to slip between her legs. To put his mouth on her. To wake her up to pleasure. Already, his dick was hard as he gazed at her.
There was a naked Sloane in his bed. How could he not be hard?
But the memories of his past pulled at him, and he felt tainted. He’d meant what he told her before. No way should Sloane have saved herself for him.
He did not deserve her.
He should get out of the bed. He should send her far away from him.
Her eyes opened. Confusion came first. A flutter of her lashes. Then her lips began to curl in one of her gorgeous smiles. Only this time, it was the special smile. The one that made the gold show in her eyes. “Hi,” Sloane murmured.
Don’t look at me this way. Don’t stare at me with that warmth and look at me like I’m someone special.
Don’t look at me that way because…you just make me want what I should not have all the more.
She made him want to keep her, forever. To hold tight and never let go.
Voice husky and warm, Sloane told him, “I have to confess, I haven’t actually slept with anyone until you.”
Same. Because people did not get that close. Because he didn’t want a woman in bed with him if he woke up, thrashing, as he remembered being buried alive.
Or remembered killing a man.
Her smile flickered. “You…” Her smile dimmed completely. She sat up, seemed to realize that she was naked, and she tugged a sheet over her body. “You look upset. You want me to leave?” A brisk nod. “I’ll go to the guest room.”
When she tried to get out of the bed, he reached over and caught her hand. “I don’t want you to go anywhere.” That was the problem. He should make her go, but he wanted her to stay. Every time he closed his eyes, he wanted to open them and find Sloane beside him.
“Good.” Her shoulders slumped. “Because I didn’t want to go anywhere, either.” She snuggled back in bed with him. “This is exactly where I want to be.”
It should not be. “Why in the hell would you choose me?” A shake of his head. “You know what I’ve done.”
“Yes. I do.” No hesitation. “I happen to think that surviving hell, fighting for your life, and stopping a serial killer makes you pretty damn impressive. If you think you’re going to shock me and that I’ll run away in horror, you are looking at the wrong woman.
” A roll of one shoulder. “First, it takes a whole lot to shock me in this world. A whole lot. And, second, I’m not planning to run from you. ”
“Don’t.” Hard. “Don’t say what you don’t mean.” Don’t make me hope.
“I’m not running.” Very clear. “Not now. Not ever.”
Good. Because I don’t know that I can let you go. He’d found someone who fit him, who reached out to the darkest places inside of him. For the first time in years, he had hope. He had…
A tie.
A reason to keep his control.
He tumbled her back on the bed.
“Preston?”
Heart racing, he yanked the sheet from her. His Sloane. Beautiful. Strong. Sexy.
Alive. Safe. She’s safe with me. I will protect her. I will never rip open a coffin and find her cold body waiting.
Sloane was hot. She was life. She was hope.