Dax
I’m surrounded by freesia. The delicate petals brush my cheek, and I swear I can see the damn things. White and yellow and pink and purple. The colors swirl together in my mind, and the subtle scent invades my broken soul.
And then, Evianna sighs.
Oh, shit. She’s in my arms. In my bed. I fell asleep with my hand on hers. But sometime in the middle of the night…one of us moved. She’s curled against me, my arm draped over the generous curve of her hip.
She’d whimpered. And I’d slid closer. Whispered to her. Held her. And apparently I’d never let go.
I try to slide my arm away, but she stirs and her fingers flutter on mine. But then, she gasps and her entire body tenses.
“Evianna, relax. You’re safe.” Her heart thuds rapidly against my chest, and she fights to free herself from my hold. “It’s Dax. Listen to me, darlin’. You’re at my place. Remember?”
“Oh God.” With a shudder, the tension leaves her body, and she burrows deeper under the duvet, closer to me, if that’s possible. “I didn’t know where I was. I’m sorry…”
With my arms crossed over her chest, I rest my cheek against the back of her head, trying to ground her. She’s wearing some sort of tank top, and her arms are bare, the skin soft and supple, and fuck, she smells so good.
And then fear sets in. If she looks…if there’s enough light in the room…she’ll see the scars all along my forearms. Though I’ve masked some of them with what Ford tells me are intricate tattoos of skulls, the Special Forces motto, De Oppresso Liber, and parts of the Boston skyline, there’s no hiding what I am.
A blind, broken monster.
“You apologize too much,” I murmur.
“Can’t help it,” Evianna says with a shrug. “After so many years apologizing for who I am and who I want to be, it’s kind of second nature.”
Anger flares up, hot and bitter. “Who the hell made you apologize for who you are?” If they’re still in her life, they might get a visit from Ronan. Or from me.
“I’m a woman in a position of power at a major tech company. Do you know how rare that is?” She turns her head slightly, and we’re almost cheek-to-cheek.
Any closer, and I’m going to have to start reciting financial reports in my head to stop my dick from making its presence known. “Not really.”
“I had to work my way up from junior coder to CIO. Even with a masters in computer science engineering and an MBA. Through a dozen companies, overt harassment, not-so-subtle comments on my looks, my breasts, my…well, the c-word. A lot of the men felt…threatened, I guess.”
“Anyone at Beacon Hill? After last night, we know Kyle’s working with someone. Could anyone else at your job have it out for you?” All business now, I almost forget the pain in her voice. Until she blows out a long, slow breath, and I realize I’m being an ass again. “Anyone who’d say that to you isn’t a man, Evianna. Not one who deserves his dick, anyway.”
She laughs, bumping her shoulder back against mine. “That’s a new one. Doesn’t deserve his dick. I’m going to have to steal that.”
From the living room, my phone blares, “Text message from: Ronan.”
“I need to check that. Stay here. I’ll start coffee in a few minutes.” Letting go of her is the last thing I want to do. So why do I rush to get out of bed?
Because this can’t last, idiot.
My right leg aches as I take my first step, one more reminder of just how messed up I am, and I limp into the other room to snag my phone from the table by the door. “VoiceAssist, play last text message.”
“No movement at client’s house overnight. Headed to suspect’s apartment now, then to catch some Zzzs for a few hours.”
“VoiceAssist, reply to Ronan.”
“What do you want to say?” the computerized voice asks.
“Confirm. Be back online by 5:00 p.m. and check in.”
In the bedroom, I hear Evianna talking to someone—probably her boss from her tone, asking about the team, whether the latest performance numbers are in her inbox, and using a bunch of technical jargon I don’t understand. Taking the opportunity to put a little distance between the two of us, I close myself in the bathroom. My routines keep me sane. Brush my teeth, run a comb through my hair. Wince as one of the bruises from that asshole last night makes itself known.
So much for the routine.
“Dax?” Evianna knocks softly. “Can I get your wi-fi password?”
