Page 51 of Kiss of Vengeance


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I pull the T-shirt over her head and guide her arms through the sleeves. It’s a strange act for a man like me, dressing the woman who tried to drug me.

The shirt swallows her, hanging off her shoulders and reaching her mid-thigh, finally covering the lace and the curves.

I ease her back down onto the mattress.

She snuggles into the cotton, nuzzling her face in the fabric. She takes a deep breath, inhaling my scent.

I stare at her. She’s wearing my clothes. She smells like me.

She’s mine.

I pull the duvet up, covering her to her chin.

I sit on the edge of the bed and loosen my tie. I take off my jacket, throw it over the chair, and unbutton my shirt, tossing it aside.

I should go to the couch. I should leave her here and sleep in the guest room myself.

But I don't want to leave. This is my room. She is my captive.

I strip down to my boxer briefs. The gun on the nightstand is the only familiar thing in the room.

I lift the duvet and slide into the bed beside her.

The mattress dips under my weight, and gravity pulls her body slightly toward me.

My blood is still humming, my body reacting to the memory of her in that lace, but I clench my jaw and force the desire down.

I’m a monster, yes, but I’m not a scavenger. I don't take what cannot be given.

She mumbles in her sleep and throws an arm across the space between us. Her hand lands on my bare chest, right over my heart.

Her palm is warm. My heart thumps against it.

I should push her away. I should recoil from the touch of a Blackwood.

Instead, I cover her hand with mine and interlace our fingers, locking her to me.

I close my eyes, inhaling the scent of her.

She tried to poison me tonight. To drug me. She tried to escape.

But as I lie here in the dark, listening to her breathe, holding her hand against my chest, I know the truth.

She didn't escape.

She walked deeper into the trap.

And I’m never letting her go.

9

HELENA

The first thing that registers is the smell.

Not the sterile, floral scent of the guest room, but something richer—darker, overwhelming in a way that makes the air feel thick in my lungs.

Safe.