“When?” I croak.
He continues, as if I didn’t speak, and ignores that I’m clearly trying not to panic and freak out, “There’s no scarring or change in skin texture. There’snothingas evidence that it ever existed.”
“How do you know that?” I ask again, trembling.
“Because…” He pushes away from the fridge and steps closer to me. There’s fire in his blue eyes, warning me I’m about to get burned. It’s wild, possessive. “I broke into your suite at the Empress Hotel and checked while you slept.”
I’m panicking. I’m delirious. Thrown off-kilter by finally seeing Hayes again after all this time. That must be it. That has to be it.
I’m hallucinating. He’s not really here, not really saying these things.
And I’m notyearningfor them to be true.
Right?
Because what woman, in their right mind, is not only okay with, but thrilled at the thought of her best friend tracking her and breaking into her hotel room?
He cups my face, and I jolt with the electricity that snaps through me. His touch… It’s so familiar. But not in the sense of it being familiar from the past.
No, this is more potent.
My heart is racing, and my breathing is coming in shallow pants as I try not to completely spiral into a weird sense of déjà vu, panic, and the feeling of ‘rightness’.
His thumb brushes over my neck, over the spot in question, as he stares down at me. “I used a solution to make sure you weren’t covering it with any make-up or a skin prosthetic.”
“The skin irritation… The scratches…” I’m unable to look away from him.
“I apologize if I hurt you. I just needed to be sure.”
“Of what?” I can hardly speak. I can hardly breathe. “Why?”
“So I could finally claim you like I should have done all those years ago.”
I nearly pass out as disbelief and panic overwhelm me, and I stumble back.
This is my best friend from years ago.
My best friend, who harshly and almost-brutally put me in the friend zone the first time I hinted I was interested in him more than a friend.
My best friend, who had put me on a pedestal like I was untouchable with my innocence and purity.
Not a man who breaks into a hotel that has the best security system in the city.
Not a man who is saying he wants to claim me.
I spin away, needing some distance and for him not to be in the center of my attention. There’s some logical explanation for this—there has to be. Maybe I’m just misunderstanding his words.
“Look at me,” he commands, but I only shake my head and take a step away from him. “Look at me, Leeva.”
I halt because his voice is different now. Like it’s changed. Disguised.
I begin to shake.
“Siren.”
Siren…
Oh, God. No… No.No. It can’t be…
