“Me too,” she replies before her smile falls. The sight sends a pang through my chest as my other half reacts, needing to fix whatever has her upset. “I didn’t mean to make things awkward, I’m sorry.”
The car devolves back into silence, though this time, it leaves my skin itching uncomfortably. The burden of betas; we keep everything running, do whatever’s necessary to take care of our families, but actually coming up withhowto fix the problem? The pressure of making the wrong call makes us want to throw up, much happier having someone tell us what we need to do to keep everyone safe and happy.
Saying nothing will definitely make her think that I’m upset, so in turn,she’llget more upset. But chances are damn good that if I open my mouth, it won’t go over any better.
To hell with it. We’re almost home, so I can only do so much damage before passing her off to Ems.
Releasing a pent up breath, I opt for as much truth as I can. “No worries, they were assholes. None of us were exactly surprised when they were killed, though it was a rough transition for a while until things settled down.” Lips pressed into a thin line, she’s clearly attempting to bite back an avalanche of questions that my comment sparked. Veering things back into safer territory, I redirect, “Wait a minute, jab at my age? Just how old do you think I am?”
Watching her in my peripherals, her gaze is blatantly roaming over me and I fight the urge to sit up straighter under her scrutiny. “Thirty-two?”
Scoffing, I turn into our neighborhood. “Ow, my pride. Twenty-eight.”
A soft chuckle breaks the tension as she manages a teasing smile. “Well, they say men mature slower, so take it as a compliment that your gruff, silent act comes off as pensive and mysterious instead of cocky and conceited.”
Slamming on the brakes on the abandoned street, I turn to her in mock indignation. “I’m plenty conceited, and with good reason. I’m a fucking delight, thank you very much.”
Her startled laugh turns into a snort that has her hand flying up to cover her face, simply causing her to lose it even more. A genuine grin has my cheeks hurting as I ease onto the gas, finishing up the last leg of our drive.
“And so modest to boot,” she adds between gasps, still chuckling. “Not going to ask mine?”
“Yeah, even I’m not dumb enough to fall intothattrap.”
Grinning, she offers, “Twenty-six.”
“And you live alone?”
Glimpsing out the window, she does a double take, her humor dying off as she takes in our surroundings. “Yep. So you should probably keep one eye open, since I’m obviously a serial killer.”
Pulling between the gap in the thick trees that conceals our property from the street, I bypass the open gates and make our way up the long, winding driveway. “Nah. Only two good reasons you’re alone, and I don’t think it’s because you’re some psycho; too tiny to dispose of the bodies.”
Peeling her rapt attention from the window, she raises an eyebrow, looking more confident every second she’s not faced with the luxury around her. “So what’s the other possibility?”
Rounding the fountain at the main circle of the driveway, I reach up and tap the button on the rearview mirror to open the garage door, pulling into an empty stall. “Well, it’s a two parter, really.”
Three cars stretch to the left of me, with Cin’s motorcycle to the right. Everyone else’s vehicles are in the pole barn about a mile back, not in and out nearly as frequently as those of us in the main house. Shutting off the ignition, I pivot, taking a better look at Sabrina shrinking into her seat as she peers around the massive garage.
“You realize your value, and you haven’t met anyone yet who meets your standards.”
Her cheeks tint a bit and I damn near groan at the sight. Clinging to my self-control, I open my car door, circling around to hers and offering a hand to help her out. One hand clutching the bottle of wine she brought, purse slung across her body and drawing my eye to the way the strap cuts between her breasts, she slips her free hand into mine. Pulling her to her feet, I cave into weakness for a fraction of a second, stealing a few more moments of having her to myself before I have to let her go.
Leaning in, I whisper in her ear so that the others can’t overhear, since they’re no doubt already attempting to eavesdrop. “Don’t be embarrassed, it’s a good thing. You shouldn’t settle when your life's on the line; it’s far too precious to sacrifice for the wrong person.”
Releasing her, I give Sabrina my back so that I can rein in some of my rapidly fraying control. Yanking open the door that leads to the house, I hold it open for her to pass through first. She takes all of two steps into the kitchen before her steps come to an abrupt halt, staring at everything like it might bite her. There isn’t the slightest hint that she’s impressed in any way, shape, or form; she’s absolutely intimidated and clearly feeling woefully out of place.
She didn’t have a clue who Emmeline was when she saved her, and didn’t try looking her up afterward either, apparently. It’s a novelty for sure, to know without a doubt that someone isn’t trying to worm their way into our good graces, or into our ranks to sabotage us from within. My sister looks at this woman like she walks on water, and Sabrina flinches away from the adoration instead of exploiting it like anyone else in her position would.
I respect the hell out of this timid little human, but ultimately... she scares the shit out of me. She’s easy to love, yet so goddamn fragile. All it took was thirty minutes with her, half of which was spent in silence, to know that I’d happily sink to my knees at her feet if she asked. If I’m already this fucked up in the head where she’s concerned, Reid will have hacked into her records and have her life story printing out in the study before dessert is served.
“Come on, the others are waiting for us in the dining room.”
She hesitantly falls into step behind me. “How can you be sure?” I pause, the air freezing in my lungs as I realize my careless slip. “You both failed to mention that your house is a fuckingmansion. Hide and seek could last for weeks in this place.”
Releasing my breath in a rush, I scrape together a reply as we leave the kitchen behind. Polished hardwood and dark green walls marbled with veins of gold and onyx guide our path, and I slow my steps so that she can walk beside me. It’s stupid, but I can’t curb the impulse to study her reactions to our home, the girl surprising me at every turn already. Is her discomfort from it being too lavish, or not to her taste? Or is it from being near me,her instincts picking up on the danger and warning her to run?
“You really think any of them were going to miss out on meeting our little sister’s knight in shining armor? Of course they’re already waiting. Probably busy fighting over the seating arrangement, if I had to wager.”
“Exactly how many people were invited to this dinner?” she demands, sounding like she’s seriously debating making a break for it.
