“What the fuck got into you?”
“What got into me? How about seeing proof of what my future holds.”
God, I didn’t mean to bring that up again. But if I wasn’t thinking of sex with my mortal enemy, I was plotting ways to switch coffins from Weavers to Hawks.
“You knew that’s what would happen.”
“Knowing and seeing are entirely different things.”
Jethro pinched the bridge of his nose, digging the tips of his fingers into his eyes as if seeking release from the rapidly building pressure in the room. “You’re driving me mad.”
“At least you finally admit it.”
His head whipped up.
I froze. Shit, I’d gone too far. Again.
“What did you just say?”
The spurting showerhead faded; the rapidthump-thumpof my heartbeat faded. Everything faded as I focused on Jethro’s golden eyes—but more than that—I focused on his soul. The ragged, tattered soul that looked so completely lost.
Something inside him scared me to death but also called for help. I backed away—or rather, I tried to morph into the tiled wall behind me.
He glared, then...stepped into the shower.
Water instantly splattered his grey t-shirt and black jodhpurs as he stood over the wriggling water demon. His eyelashes sparkled with droplets as he coldly looked me up and down.
His hand came up. His lips twisted. A flash of violence danced across his features.
I did two things at once.
I cowered and suffered a vertigo wave.
Sickness slammed into me as I raised my arm above my head in defence. “Don’t hit me!” The room spun and I stumbled against the tiles, desperately trying to grasp something to keep me upright.
My vision shot black and I flinched as harsh fingers captured my elbows, giving me an anchor just like Vaughn used to do so many times when we were children. The moment I had a sanctuary, the vertigo left me, depositing me firmly in Jethro’s hold.
His eyes blazed with fury. “You couldn’t hurt me any more than you just did, Ms. Weaver.”
Why?
It’s because you jumped to conclusions.
When I first arrived at Hawksridge, I would’ve been completely justified to cower and protect myself, but only because I didn’t know who Jethro was. Now, I saw what he hid and violence was just a tool to him. A tool he didn’t like to use. A tool he’d been made to wield all his life. But beneath his ferocity was pain. Deep, deep pain that spoke of a man far too immersed in this farce.
He won’t hit me.
Not now. Not after what we’d shared—even after I’d tried to push him away, we were still intrinsically linked. He’d proven that when he’d remained on my side in the solar.
Shit, this is too messed up.
Blinking away the residual sickness, I tried to change the subject. “Stop using my last name.”
He didn’t reply, his face unreadable.
Something shadowed his gaze. Was it regret or annoyance? I couldn’t tell. My heart lurched regardless. Sighing, I faced the true issue, hoping to grant him peace. “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I didn’t mean to.”
He let me go. “You thought I was going to hit you. Your fear...your loathing—you can’t hide the truth. One flinch and you proved what you thought of me. I’m a fucking idiot to believe there was anything more between us.”
