“Where you left them.” He’s still teasing me, running his hand up and down his shaft, slowly, smoothly as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “In the library.”
I take a step towards the door, and Valdemar takes the hint, throwing his legs off the bed and pulling on some boxer shorts he fishes off the floor, the tight material doing nothing to hide his arousal.
“So, are you just going to fuck me and leave?” he says.
“I shouldn’t have even done that, let alone still be here.” I wave a hand over the room.
He puts his hand on his chest. “I’m hurt.”
I scoff. “I doubt that. I’m sure before going to prison you fucked women and walked out on them all the time.”
Something drapes itself across the room, a darkness like someone has closed the curtains. I stare at Valdemar, his expression swimming with anger.
“For the record, I don’t, and I’m getting annoyed that you think I’m some heartless caveman who has no idea what emotions are.”
“You said last night that you haven’t had a woman in ten years, so forgive me for thinking that I just happened to be the first one you came across who was stupid enough to fall for your mind games and your pretty face.” My anger at him isn’t justified. I’m angry with myself for letting him in, for being swayed by him and forgetting what he did and why I came herein the first place—Ed. This has always been about Ed, but I need a punching bag, and Valdemar is the closest thing.
With the sheet wrapped around my body, I go to leave, but Valdemar beats me to it, standing in front of the large oak door.
Glaring at him, I ask, “Are you going to stop me from leaving?”
“No, but I’m going to make you listen to me before you do.” He places the flat of his hand against the door and scowls. “I’m not some fucking playboy. I don’t fuck women who don’t mean something to me. I may look like a complete bastard, but I’m not. And I didn’t ask to feel the way I do about you. In fact, it’s made things rather complicated. You’re the last person I would have dreamt of pursuing, but you don’t get to choose who you’re attracted to. Fuck, it’s not even attraction; it’s something else. It’s like there’s this energy coming from you, and I can’t help but gravitate towards it.”
I bite my bottom lip to stop its trembling.
I should be arguing with him, but despite my sensible brain trying to bulldoze all my emotions, what he’s saying makes perfect sense, and I’m relieved it isn’t just me who feels this invisible pull.
“My life has been on hold for ten years, and I thought I wanted it to be over, but last night when you made your choice to not stick that knife into me, I made a promise that I wasn’t going to waste the life you were giving back to me.” His hand drops from the door. “I will not keep you here, but I would very much like for you to stay.”
Something releases inside me, something I’ve been holding in, and my shoulders drop.
“I didn’t mean to make assumptions about your character, but all I have to go on is that you’re the head of a notorious vigilante group and have murdered several people, including my brother,” I say.
“I’m ruthless, angel, but not when it comes to you.”
“You’ve made your feelings pretty clear, and I won’t lie, you make me feel things I haven’t ever felt before, but realistically, where do you see this going?”
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“Do you see us dating? How would that even work? I can see it now—bringing you to my work Christmas party. ‘Hey, guys, this is my new fella. You know, the guy who killed my brother.’ And God forbid, if we were to get married and have kids, how would I even begin to tell them that their dad killed their uncle? And even if there was a remote chance of us ever being together, I can’t imagine a day would go by that I didn’t look at you and see the man who murdered the other half of me. Even after everything you’ve told me, that’s who you are and who you will be, and I don’t see that ever changing.”
“And if I hadn’t killed your brother?”
The intensity of his stare is too much, his anger gone, replaced with a terrifying sadness. I drop my eyes but am only met with his solid chest and the raven that appears to be circling me.
“Then I would be falling at your feet.” My eyes meet his, and my heart cracks. “But you did kill him.”
Before I have a chance to change my mind, I open the door and force myself down the corridor, trying to remember the way we came last night.
To my relief, I find the stairs and descend, the sheet tangling around my ankles as if it’s trying to stop me from leaving.
In the light of day, the place looks different, with no shadows dancing against the walls, nothing hiding from the moonlight, but I still feel the presence of this house, like something is living in the walls and has been for centuries.
Finding the library, I breathe a sigh of relief and look for my clothes. There’s no rescuing the underwear Valdemar cutfrom me, the memory of which makes me shiver, desire already pooling between my legs. Shaking it off, I slip my bra on and then my dress.
The door opens, and I try to ignore the tension that’s arrived with Valdemar.
“Shit,” I curse while ducking down to search under the chairs for my shoes. When I stand, he’s in front of me, holding both of them.
