“I will. Thanks, Urs.”
We say goodbye as Hayes walks toward me from the front door, and I go to meet him. He doesn’t speak; he just cups my face and leans down to kiss me in a way that can only be described as claiming.
When he breaks the kiss, my eyes dart between his. He runs his thumb down my neck where Guerilla’s tattoo used to be. “You didn’t call me or send a video today.”
Right. I was supposed to do that if I fingered myself. But my sexual needs were the last thing on my mind as I spent the day trying not to lose my sanity with worry and panic.
It’s like he sees and knows that. “It’s going to be okay, little dove,” he reassures me softly.
My eyes flick to Ash, who clears his throat. Hayes turns to face Ash and pulls me tight to his side.
Ash looks the same, but not. Same blue eyes, like dark denim; same dark blonde hair, same rugged handsomeness with a lethal edge. But he has more tattoos now, and there are more silver rings on his fingers than I remember. And if I thought there was a darkness in Hayes now, it’s even more intense in Ash.
“It’s good to see you, Leeva,” he says in his gravelly voice that’s deeper with age.
“Is it, Ash?”
Hayes’ fingers curl possessively around my waist, but he stays silent.
Ash tilts his head. “It’s always good to see a member of our family, especially after so long and after such a sudden…departure without being able to say a proper goodbye.”
Well, that’s one way of putting it.
It’s also him not beating around the bush about what happened, and likely the reason he’s here.
“Is this you coming to tell me to leave, but to do it with a proper goodbye this time?”
Hayes growls, and his fingers tighten. “You’re not leaving, Leeva.” It’s both a statement and a warning for Ash and me.
Part of me keens at his possessiveness and that he wants me—the part that had been worrying all day that I was imagining his feelings or that I wasn’t enough for him.
But the part of me that loves him so much it hurts—that worries about the ramifications of us being together—warns me to run. When I’m scared, I’m impulsive, and I always want to run. And I often do.
Hayes knows me best, and his arm tightens even more around me.
Ash inhales deeply before slowly exhaling. “No, Leeva. I’m not here to chase you away.”
“Then why are you here?”
He steps forward and reaches for my neck. Instinctively, I bat his hand away, making him chuckle.
“It’s okay,” Hayes reassures me. “Let him see your neck and that there’s no lingering evidence of Guerilla’s tattoo.”
Slowly, I tilt my head back and to the side so Ash can examine my neck. I wait patiently as he inspects it closely, pulling out a small flashlight from inside his cut to shine a light on it, and his fingers are rough and callused as he palpates the area, trying to feel for scarring.
“There’s nothing,” he murmurs. “Absolutely nothing. I’ve seen and felt tattoos that were removed before, and there’s alwayssomethingleft to indicate it had been there, even if it’s a slight change in skin texture. How?”
“Having access to the absolute best cosmetic surgeon in the world.” I shrug and add, “Probably some good healing genetics, too.”
Ash steps back, but he looks more worried than relieved. “You have money.”
“Luthor’s wealth and connections allowed me to access Dr.—”
“No.” He looks around the house, then back at me. “You have money,” he stresses. “Guerilla won’t back down. He’ll push this as far as he can to re-stake his claim on you, Leeva.”
“I don’t want Guerilla.”
“And we’d never allow him to force you to be with him. But…” Ash trails off, regarding Hayes, and I know what he’s saying.
