“Um.” Her eyebrows knit. “Knox?”
“Yes?”
She doesn’t offer any explanation, keeping to herself, glassy-eyed and silent.
Maybe she’s still jealous?
“He means nothing to me,” I tell her, needing her to see just how serious I am about it. “You’re my only one. I’d finish him with you, the way we did before, but you’re wrung out. Rest.”
“Knox…”
“I’ll handle what’s left of him with my gloves on.” I lift my other hand, cupping her cheeks with both my palms. Holding her in place, I lean closer until our breaths mingle. “I’m not touching anyone but you. Okay?”
“It’s not about that.” Her chin wobbles. “You saidlet me love you. You… Do you love me?”
“I wanted you the second I saw you.” The answer is so simple, it flows out of my mouth. “The first one. Of course I do.”
“That’s it?” Her hands grasp my shirt, small and warm. There’s hope in her eyes. “You just love me because you…love me?”
“Yeah.” I don’t mind that she doesn’t say it back. She will, eventually. I pry one of her hands off me, kiss each knuckle. “Exactly.”
Her smile is the sun. A rainbow. A fucking shooting star.
My everything.
22
SKYLAR
This wasn’t what I had pictured when I set up the visit to Colbert’s leather museum.
Being held—sort of—captive in a Texas basement, sprawled on a pile of blankets with my leg draped over my soulmate and my head on his chest, wasn’t it at all.
Having my sister’s boyfriend’s skin down here with us wasn’t on the agenda either. But he’s here.
Kind of.
Once Knox was done fleshing him, he tossed him into a liming barrel because“that’s the ritual and, really, we’ve seen enough of this fucker.”
After that, we had an actual meal. Eggs and bacon, a small portion of both. Just enough to keep me strong without upsetting my stomach.
Yeah. No version of me could’ve imagined any of this.
Then again, this entire trip has been one surprise after another. I was supposed to be murdered. By my own sister.
But instead of dying, the universe gave something far better.
Knox.
Locked in his embrace, my wound bandaged and my heart cradled in his hand, I’ve found peace. I belong. I’m safe. Adored.
Somewhere in the farmhouse, Bronwyn is dying. Rotting.
And I don’t care about her.
This moment is too perfect to ruin by thinking about Bronwyn.
The brush of Knox’s fingers over the curve of my back is the only thing I can focus on. His touch sends shivers up my spine. The corners of my lips hike up as I snuggle closer to him.
