“Easy,” he murmured, helping me adjust as I looped my arms around his neck.
“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” I said, grinding on his rod.
His hands slammed onto my hips like iron shackles, stopping the movement. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”
“More like an invitation.”
“Youwill notdie.”
He said that a lot. I was starting to wonder if he had a complex with death.
“The invite was for sex, not death,” I told him.
“And yet you almost died last night.” He practically snarled, grasping my waist and lifting me off his lap as he stood. After pulling the covers around me once more, Kieran tugged thebreakfast tray over my lap and paced from the bed toward the window.
“You really didn’t recognize the men who tried to kill you?” He wanted to know.
“Never seen them before.” I confirmed.
He was facing away, hands clasped behind him at the small of his back. The light coming in from the window outlined his body so he was just a dark shape. My words caused his head to tilt.
“So they came to your apartment and trashed the place, then came back later looking for you, and you have no idea who they are?”
“Maybe it wasn’t the same people.” Yes, I know. That sounded stupid, and despite what some people—cough-cough, Kieran—thought, I was not. But yet, the words flew out of my mouth anyway.
He turned. “So you have a lot of enemies, then?”
“No.” I really didn’t like the implication that I knew more than I was admitting. Sure, maybe I’d been a bit hesitant this morning to say anything, but I’d just met him. And yeah, technically, I guess I still had just met him. But he did pull me off the streets, get me a doctor, and keep me safe the entire night. Plus, there was the French toast. My eyes wandered back to the last few bites of the tasty concoction. Maybe I could eat the rest of it after all.
“Then why would you think it wasn’t the same people?” he pressed.
“It probably was,” I mumbled. Really, if I knew who wanted me dead, I’d tell him. Keeping secrets like this would only get me killed.
“Did they take anything?”
“W-what?” My words stumbled just like my stomach.Maybe the French toast will have to wait.
He gritted his teeth as though his patience was thin.As if he has any.“The scum who ransacked your place? What did they take?”
“Well, I’d just started trying to clean it up when they came back.” I hedged.
“You didn’t notice anything missing?” he persisted.
The empty yellow envelope flashed into my thoughts, sending more discomfort right through my middle. I tore off another hunk of nail and swiped it on the corner of a napkin. I hadn’t really had time to think of it, of anything that happened last night, because I’d passed out and then woken up to Kieran. And well, Kieran and his dick werevery gooddistractions.
However, this suspicious inquisition brought it all rushing back. One intrusive thought after another. The sound of bullets firing at close range. The way my teeth chewed through flesh and how gross it was when warm, metallic blood oozed over my tongue.
For shit’s sake, just shoot him, Cross!
A firm hand gripped my wrist, and reality crashed into memory, making me flinch aggressively. Ripping my arm free with so much force it flew back and hit the tray, I knocked over the glass of juice.
Cold, citrusy liquid splashed onto a plate and flooded the tray around it, cascading over the edge onto the blanket covering me. Gasping, I grabbed the fabric and lifted as if that would somehow stop it from soaking through.
“Fuck,” Kieran growled, quickly moving the tray aside and flipping the wet blanket off my lap.
A weird clattering sound filled the room, and I realized it was my teeth chattering violently. I tried to stop them but ended up biting down on my tongue. I whimpered, my hand flying up to my mouth as the sharp tang of blood brought back the memory that started this in the first place.
Gagging, I tried to rid myself of the stupid flavor, but it was everywhere, and I felt like I was going to choke.
