I swallow hard, finally grasping the gravity of his dilemma because I’m suffering from the same affliction. “That’s why I need to go home.”
He stabs his fingers through his hair, pushing the flop of dark blond hair away from his chiseled face. “No.” This time, there’s no threat behind the word. Instead, it’s almost a sad resignation. “I’ll go. Discord will stay with you.”
Not a good idea.
“No offense, Havoc, but your brother terrifies me.”
He grunts out a laugh. “Discord is…Discord, but he’d never hurt a woman. And he’d never hurtyou.”
The way he emphasizes the last word helps me believe I’m safe with his brother. Still, being secluded in the middle of nowhere, on this mountain, with Havoc is one thing. With Discord? The idea is chilling. “Thank you, but I miss my family, and it’s wrong for me to be here while my father is dying.”
“Your father is dying, whether you’re here or in Brighton.”
How…cold. But also, true. “My mother and Nate need me.”
Havoc shakes his head. “No, they don’t. They need you safe. Stop being stubborn.”
“It’s not about being stubborn.” Suddenly, the floor is fascinating when I make this whispered confession… “I only feel safe with you.”
A wave of mortification rolls over me. Drowning me. So, imagine my surprise when Havoc cups my chin and forces me to lift my head. It makes me lock eyes with him. God, those dark brown eyes. Such torment in them. As if he’s seen too much ugly, and now it’s trapped inside them, and nothing can make himunsee the horror that haunts him.
“Fine. We’ll stay here, together, until we find out who hurt your family.”
Havoc’s gentle touch is a dichotomy to the rough rasp of his voice. At the annoying sting of tears, I bite back the swell of emotion. “Thank you, and I’m sorry for keeping you from your life.”
He lifts a single brow. “Ask yourself this, Duchess. Do I strike you as a man who can be forced to do anything I don’t want to do?”
I note the sharp cut of his arrogant jawline. The straight nose and full lips. Brows arched over those violent eyes that track the bob of my throat when I swallow. Mostly, though, I’m captivated by his unyielding expression. One that tells the tale of a ruthless man without saying a single word. “No, you don’t.”
“Guess it means I’m here because I want to be.”
Well.
Okay then.
“This puts us right back where we started.”
But we’re not, because we kissed. And even now, I want to kiss Havoc again, and I’m positive he wishes he could wipe the memory from his mind.
“Not quite.” When he releases my chin, his fingers brush the side of my neck.
I blame it on him being clumsy, thanks to his alcohol-drenched condition.
“You don’t think so?”
He licks his lips, and the action forces my thoughts to linger on how he made me burn when he licked his way up my throat. And the taboo thrill when he bit me. I press my thighs together as a delicious pressure builds at his phantom touch.
He ignited my entire body with a kiss. Imagine what he could do with his—
“No, Duchess.” His gaze flicks to my bare legs, and I swear he knows what I’m thinking.
But then I rememberwhyI’m here. The night the call came in that my father had been shot plays out like a horror movie in my mind. As do the days that followed, spent at his bedside, watching him fight to survive.
I’ve treated this as a respite from responsibility, a holiday in the mountains. Meanwhile, my mother and brother remain by my father’s side.
How selfish of me.
“I should go home,” I say, almost thinking aloud.
