“Don’t damage my pretty face.”
I rolled my eyes, sizing him up the way Justice taught us, picturing the moves I was about to make. “No promises.”
“Cruel angel.”
I struck when he moved close enough for me to hook my leg around his, enjoying the flash of surprise in his eyes when I almost took him to the ground. The smile on his face deepened, excitement making his eyes shine like the ocean.
“Cruel,dangerousangel,” he corrected, and I found I liked that. I liked being dangerous.
I went at him again, and he was ready for me this time. He blocked my first two attempts, and my third. I wasn’t as practised at offensive manoeuvres, my real strength came from defence, but he didn’t have to know that was why I stepped back, frowning deeply. Playing up my annoyance.
“Give up yet, Jessia?” he taunted.
In response I crooked a finger at him, and wicked glee filled Devil’s handsome face as he went on the offensive. His open palm met my shoulder and knocked me off balance, and it took me a moment to find my footing again. His second move was the attack we’d trained for the most often, and it was an effort to keep the grin off my face as I twisted my weight, drove myself into his body, and sent him toppling to the ground.
We landed in a heap, Devil groaning, me beaming.
“Told you I could do it,” I crowed.
“And all without damaging my pretty face. Why thank you, angel.”
I snorted. Considered getting to my feet but… I was finally where I wanted to be, all of him pressed against all of me. My hair was still in the ponytail I threw it in for the lesson, but a strand tumbled out as I leaned over Devil, tickling my jaw as our eyes locked.
It had been building for weeks. Not a wildfire or explosion, but a sweet heat, something slow burning and long lasting. It was effortless to lean down and kiss him, to swallow his groan and finally taste him the way I’d craved since he first carried me to his room. Sweet citrus and something soft and addictive like the butter shortbread Sweetie made for special occasions.
Finally,part of me sighed. I’d waited for this for too long, aching for the feel of his lips brushing mine, his body aligned with mine, his hands on my hips, spreading to cover as much of my skin as possible.
I suddenly resented the clothes I wore, the jeans hiding his erection from me even if I could feel it between us, teasing me with what I’d secretly wanted for weeks.
“Angel,” he groaned, hands wandering up my back, making goosebumps ripple over my skin. “Jessia. Fuck.”
He was breathing raggedly when I put an inch of distance between us, cool air rushing in to cool my heated skin, brushing my warm cheeks. My heart pounded in my chest, the tightness that usually occupied the space absent. Instead I felt light, giddy. At least until I registered the look of pain on Devil’s face.
“Fil?” I asked quietly, concern pinching my heart. “What’s wrong?”
He swallowed. Stroked his hands up and down my back, and said, “I can’t tell you, angel. I’d be a selfish bastard if I did.”
My brow furrowed. Selfish for telling me what? “I don’t understand.”
His throat worked over another swallow, and his eyes fell shut, creases around them. A shadow cast over my joy and I sat up, my thighs straddling his.
“Is it something to do with—that basement?” I asked, trying to shut out the memories, to refuse them entry into this soft moment.
“No. God, no,” he said. “It’s nothing like that. It’s about me. Us.”
Us? But what would he need to keep secret? And why? It made no sense. “Just tell me.”
“I can’t,” he bit out.”
“Fil,” I complained. “Devil. Whatever it is, I can handle it.” I’d got through a whole self defence class, and sometimes I could go a whole two hours without thinking of that rank mattress, the dingy basement, and the vile alphas and betas who hurt us.
His jaw clenched, he stroked his hands down my back one last time, skimming them over my waist where I’d hidden theknife Lynn gifted me. A smile feathered across his face at the feel of the cold handle and the leather sheath it laid in, at me being armed. It faded after a moment, and I could almost feel the tight knot of dread and love and fear that matched that expression on his face.
No, I—Icouldfeel it. And my only emotions right now were determination and a sprinkling of worry. Maybe irritation that he thought I couldn’t handle this truth. The rest… not mine.
I climbed off him quickly, my hands shaking as I processed it, as I explored the tangle of feelings in my chest. Not mine.His.
And Iknew,without him saying a single word, what he couldn’t tell me. No, what he wouldn’t. What he’d known and kept secret all this time.
