“Your profile needs work.”
“Gods, no wonder this club is the main place you hang out. The only people who can stand you are masochists.”
“That’s why you keep coming back.” I drop my head, brushing my lips along her jaw. The fighting we do is just foreplay.
She doesn’t pull away, and I keep taking liberties, nuzzling her soft skin. I hook a finger into her hair tie and free her tight ponytail. Her hair is a thick black rope, perfect to use as a leash to control her. I turn her head this way and that, and she lets me. Her eyes are closed.
I press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, and she sucks in a breath. “No.”
“No?”
Her eyes are pure black now. She tries to drag her gaze to mine but can only stare at my mouth. “I don’t want this.”
“No?” I shift my hands on her back, giving her room to escape. She doesn’t budge. “Are you so afraid of what’s between us?”
“There’s nothing between us.”
“There’s everything.” I slide a hand up to take a handful of her hair. “I’ll prove it. Let me prove it to you.” Our breath mingles for a moment, and I nuzzle at her lips, opening her slowly. She?—
“No!” She snaps her head to the side, avoiding my lips.
I’m so sick of her denying this. Denying us. “Yes.” I take a firmer hold of her hair.
Her breath catches. For a moment, she’s liquid in my arms. Then?—
“Elyria.”
* * *
Inara
He releasesme so quickly I wobble on my high heels. A touch on my arm steadies me, but then he’s across the room, half-turned to the wall.
I already miss his touch.
“I—” I don’t know what to say.
He runs a hand down his face. He’s not looking at me. “You can go. If that’s what you want. I won’t hunt you anymore.”
“Are you going to watch over me?”
He shakes his head, but I know he’s not going to back down. “Don’t ask me to stop. I don’t think I’m capable of it.”
I told him I’ve been profiling him, and I am. How does a little boy who loses his parents at such a young age cope?
He’s become hyper-vigilant. Trying to control everything and everyone around him. Using the billions at his disposal to make the world safer.
“I need to understand,” I say. “I don’t understand.”
He waits for me to unravel my thoughts.
“You made me feel things. But you’re not the man I thought you’d be. I need to know. . . how did I get it so wrong?”
“You aren’t wrong. Everything between us has been right.” He looks back at me. The light gilds his perfect profile.
“Obviously not. Since I lost my family, I’ve had the ability to just know things.” I don’t know how to describe my abilities. I’ve never tried to explain them to anyone. “I have. . . instincts. About people. People who kill. I’ve never doubted myself. Until now.”
“Is that what you’re searching for? Proof that you can trust yourself?”
