Page 52 of Enemy of the Heart

He arches an eyebrow, waiting me out.

I roll my eyes and mutter, “I have premature ejaculation.”

Sean throws his head back and laughs—loudly.

“I thought about telling him, ‘Sean doesn’t like to share his toys,’ but the mental image of him approaching women, explaining that he’s quick on the draw was too good to resist.”

He shakes his head, a smile on his perfect lips. “You’re a menace.”

“Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

“I really fucking do.” With one hand on my back, pressing me to him, he captures my chin between his other thumb and forefinger. He slams his mouth against mine in a bruising kiss that leaves me breathless and panting at the same time.

There’s a temptation to say it back to him, but I don’t know how. I’m certain what I feel is love, but I’m seemingly unable to form the words. I’m not wired this way.

I’ve conditioned myself to lock down my emotions; there’s no room for them in my line of work. Sean’s the first person outside of Mercer I’ve opened my heart to, but just because he brightens every day doesn’t make it any easier to tell him how I feel.

Unless…

My pulse hammers hard enough to make me think it’s cracked through my ribcage and is clawing its way out. As my arms wind around his middle, I crane my neck back to fix my eyes firmly on Sean.

“Minä rakastan sinua.” The words in my native tongue are barely more than a breath, my heart spilling from my parted lips. His storm-colored gaze stays trained on me as his knuckles gently coast down the length of my spine, grounding me to this moment so I don’t float away. “Sinä valaistat minulle pimeyden ja saat jokaisen päivän päättymään kirkkaammin kuin se alkoi. En voisi elää ilman sinua.”

It begins to snow again, the flurries landing in my hair and piling on Sean’s broad shoulders as we stare at each other. A seismic shift is happening, the continents relocating beneath our feet as we float into the cosmos. Things feel different now that I’ve breathed life into my feelings. I feel different, somehow better.

“Someday,” he says, his voice low and gentle. He tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. “I want you to tell me what that means.”

“Jonain päivänä,” I repeat in Finnish. One day.

Mercer

My one good eye tracks the two Americans warily. I don’t trust them at fucking all, but I’m trying. Mostly. Louhi obviously trusts them, which would normally be good enough for me. But they look like they’re military, and that makes my blood run cold and my hair stand on end.

As the three of them make trips to and from the car, emptying whatever vehicle they brought, their easy, natural camaraderie is noticeable. The one with the darker complexion and golden-colored eyes looks like the nicer of the two men, with his bright expressions and boisterous laughter. I get the sense that it’s a front.

He reminds me a little of Louhi, burying his more savage layers. My sister, on the other hand, keeps her violence simmering just beneath the surface. I don’t know how deep you’d have to dive to see that man’s danger.

The other bloke, the one who can’t stop touching Lou, his brutality is right there on his face for all to see. He’s huge, with muscles stacked atop muscles. He looks like he could flip a motherfucking car. I bet my sister likes that. She shines like the sun every time their bodies connect, and because of that, I’m making an effort not to transform into some sort of primitive caveman. I didn’t even fight when he took my gun from me—I’m trying. Well, sort of. I still have the blade tucked beneath my thigh. I’m confident I could have the tip embedded in his brain before he so much as got a shot off.

It doesn’t take the three of them long to unload the car. I’d volunteered to help, but my broken ribs still make it hard to breathe, and when I tried to get up, Lou told me not to. I wasn’t going to argue, not when the severe laceration in my ankle is still extremely painful. Based on how lethargic and exhausted I feel, I’ve wondered if I might have internal bleeding.

The overgrown one—Digs, I think she called him—strides through the room with bags in his arms and disappears down the hallway. The other guy—Jacob? James? J-something—enters the front room, where I’m reclined with a bottle of wine, a glass, and three beers. He holds a beer out for me, but I shake my head. I’m not drinking that swill.

I’m the one who originally introduced Lou to exquisite wine, and the ghost of a smile tugs at my lips when I catch sight of the label on the Bordeaux that’s been brought into the room. She obviously had to go to a specialty shop for that. Too bad I’m in no condition to consume alcohol. I’ve surprised myself that I’ve woken up every day for the last fifteen days. I halfway assumed I’d die in my sleep at some point.

He shrugs, as though to say, suit yourself, and falls into an adjacent chair. He pops the top on two beers with an exaggerated sigh as he settles into the seat.

The bear of a man appears and drops into the seat across from me. When my sister starts to walk past, presumably to sit next to me, he wraps his huge forearm around Lou’s middle and drags her onto his lap. She giggles as she leans forward and sets about removing the cork and pouring herself a glass of the burgundy liquid.

“So, Mercer,” the one with a J-name starts, “Why don’t you tell us why you look like you got thrown from the window of a forty-story building?”

I’ve known this moment was coming since my sister fell into my arms and pulled me out of the pit of despair I’d fallen into when she arrived. She brought hope with her when she arrived. She just didn’t know it. With her here, I can see my plan through to the end.

“Jace,” my sister chastises with a giggle as she chucks the cork at him. Jace, not James. “He doesn’t look that bad. Maybe only a five or ten story building.”

He chuckles, and even I bite the inside of my cheek to stop my lips from twitching. I should be offended, but I have seen better days.

“Seriously, man,” Jace speaks again. “Who has your ear?”